The Gossamer Web
by Muirgen Monet
Summary: Following Voldemort's rebirth, Severus returns to his Master's side while a scandal in the Ministry throws the future into even greater uncertainty. Severus must push aside his own doubts and misgivings as he fights to protect all he holds dear. Post GF
1. There and Back Again

Disclaimer: Some of these characters are the intellectual property of JK Rowling, while those you do not recognise are my own. No monetary profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

AN: Special thanks go out to my beta, Bil, who has done a fantastic job. This chapter is dedicated to my friend Kit, who heard the story first.

* * *

Chapter One: There and Back Again

_'The Battle of Britain is about to begin …_ _Let us therefore brace ourselves to our duties, and so bear ourselves that if the British Empire and Commonwealth last for a thousand years, men will still say, "This was their finest hour'".' - Winston Churchill_

* * *

The halls of Hogwarts were utterly silent. The whole castle: the paintings, the ghosts, the amours lined up against the wall, were all subdued, as if they too were mourning the death of Cedric Diggory. To Severus, the only thing more painful than the loss of one of his students was the circumstances that had brought it about. The Dark Lord had returned. The idea was so terrible he did not want to believe it, but Severus did not have the chimerical luxury of denial; he had seen the Dark Lord with his own eyes. Severus had spent a week in the company of the Dark Lord, risking everything to return to the one who he had sworn never again to serve.

Pushing such thoughts to the deepest recesses of his mind, Severus made his way to the Great Hall. Dinner was about to begin, and an appearance would be required to show Albus and his students he had returned.

In order to account for his abrupt departure, rumor was spread of a "family emergency"- it was utter drivel of course, but it was the only explanation given. His godson had likely deduced the true reason for his absence and Severus could only hope that Draco kept that tidbit of information to himself.

Severus entered the Great Hall, his eyes sweeping over the assembled students. At the Slytherin table, Miss Parkinson nudged Draco and hissed, _'He's back_.' A few others glanced up from their plates as he prowled by and seated himself at the Head Table, but most kept their heads bowed. The Hufflepuff table was especially solemn.

'Welcome back, Severus. I am glad to see you are well,' Albus said, his usual smile was conspicuously absent.

Severus merely scowled, heaping generous amounts of food onto his plate. The Headmaster gave him a concerned look, but Severus forestalled any attempts of further probing by taking a large bite of salmon.

_Clunk, clunk, clunk_. Moody hobbled into the Great Hall and made his way to the Head Table, though he faltered when he spotted the Potions Master. Moody quickly recovered and took a seat- as far away as he could manage.

Minerva arrived next, slightly breathless as she hurried to the table. 'I'm sorry for being late, Albus, I happened upon Miss Chang in the corridor…'

Albus waved his hand. 'No need to apologise, Minerva.' He sighed heavily. 'I fully understand.'

The Transfiguration teacher sat on Severus's other side. She nodded to him in greeting, but said nothing, which suited him just fine. Taking a sip from his goblet, Severus became aware of the feeling of being watched. Lifting his eyes from his plate, he immediately spotted the culprit: _Potter_. The boy was frowning at him, eyes full of suspicion.

There was the rustling of robes and Severus looked away. Albus had set down his cutlery and risen to his feet. The hall immediately fell silent. 'The end,' Albus gazed at the students, the grief, as well as the fear and uncertainty apparent on the children's faces, 'of another year.'

Severus remained silent through the speech, except to give the toast to Mr. Diggory, his face a stoic mask. Beside him, Minerva blinked rapidly, her lip trembling. Further down the table, Pomona blew loudly into her handkerchief.

'…we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort's gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.

'It is my belief—and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken—that we are all facing dark and difficult times.'

* * *

The clock struck midnight as Severus flung the door open and stalked into the staff room which (with the addition of half a dozen chairs) had become the improvisatory Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.

Albus glanced up from his conversation with Elphias Doge as Severus found an unoccupied spot in the crowded room and leaned against the wall. 'Now that everyone is present, we shall begin. But first, I would like to introduce or rather _re_-introduce someone I believe you all know.' The Headmaster gestured to a form behind him and a massive black mutt stood and transformed into Sirius Black.

There was a collective shout from the room. Both Diggle _and_ his hat toppled out of his chair; a black man in red Auror robes leapt to his feet drawing his wand; Hagrid roared, 'TRAITOR!' and pulled out his bumbershoot, and a squat, black-haired witch fainted dead away (she was caught by Sturgis Podmore, who looked quite pale himself.)

_'Silence_!' At Albus's command they all quieted, though they looked at Black with fear; the Auror did not lower his wand. 'I have spoken with Sirius and he has given me irrefutable proof of his innocence. He is no more a servant of Voldemort than I am.' Dumbledore paused at that point, allowing for Sturgis to revive the witch with a wave of his wand. 'Sirius Black is here at my invitation, as is every single one of you.'

Hagrid shrugged his massive shoulders. 'If Dumbledore trusts him,' he announced to the room, 'tha's good enough fer me.'

The Auror lowered his wand. 'Are you saying I've been chasing the wrong man all over Britain? I've spent hundreds of hours looking for him, all the Aurors have been-'

'Wasting their time, Shacklebolt,' Black interrupted, crossing his arms and lifting his chin; a pose that reminded Severus acutely of Regulus. 'I didn't betray James and Lily.'

'Then who did?' Sturgis asked, eyeing the Azkaban escapee suspiciously.

'Pettigrew,' Lupin said, speaking from his place at the table. 'Peter Pettigrew betrayed the Potters to Voldemort.'

This revelation produced more shocked exclamations and Diggle's hat once again found itself on the floor. Despite the numerous interruptions, Black's whole story—the bluff, his imprisonment, his escape and his attempt to catch Pettigrew—was eventually told.

At its conclusion the room was silent before Elphias asked Black, 'How long… how long was Peter working for You-Know-Who?'

'From what I've heard, over a year, but it's hard to know for sure, Azkaban inmates aren't exactly a truthful lot.' Black's eyes flicked over to Severus briefly, his eyes hard.

Mad-Eye growled. 'Why didn't we know about this sooner?' He demanded. His electric blue eye swiveled towards Severus, though his next words were directed at Albus. 'Isn't that what we have Snape for? Or maybe he knew all along and didn't think it was worth mentioning?'

At this accusation, everyone turned toward him- Mad-Eye smirked.

Severus surveyed the group: the suspicion was apparent on many of their faces, while others- Albus, Minerva, Molly Weasley, Arthur, and most surprisingly, Lupin- were looking at him without any animosity. Shacklebolt merely looked perplexed. Severus hesitated. The Auror along with the dark-haired witch were new to the Order… he was now forced to damn himself once more.

'The Dark Lord has many secrets,' he said, selecting his words carefully. 'There is much He did not and shall not tell, even to the most loyal. The Dark Lord has worked very hard to assure that only He Himself knows the identity of all His supporters. That was the very reason why Igor Karkaroff was able to give less than half a dozen names in his own defense.'

'Which included you,' Mad-Eye snarled.

Severus flinched before he could compose himself. 'If you recall, _Alastor_,' he snarled through gritted teeth, 'I was the one who deduced the Dark Lord had a spy in the Order, and I was the one who informed you all of that fact. If it was not for my information the Potters would not have hid under the Fidelius Charm.'

Mad-Eye opened his mouth to argue, but was silenced by Albus's quiet, 'That's enough, Alastor.' The group fell into an awkward silence. Severus could feel Shacklebolt's eyes on him, and kept his gaze determinedly locked on the opposite wall.

Arthur shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. 'What are we to do now, Albus? Cornelius Fudge may not accept You-Know-Who is back, but we must do _something_.'

The Headmaster smiled. 'You need not worry, Arthur, I do not plan on just sitting idly by. I have spoken to Hagrid and Madame Maxime and they have agreed to leave tomorrow to act as envoys to the giants. I hope that they will either persuade them to become our allies, or at the very least not to become our enemies. I myself will address the International Confederation of Wizards; Cornelius may not accept Voldemort's rebirth, but I believe I shall be able convince a number of the representatives regardless.'

'Do you think you will be able to convince Britain's other representative?' Doge asked. 'If she is not on our side it could make things quite difficult.'

Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling as if he was in on some private joke. 'I know Miss Ahlgrim quite well- I consider her a close friend of mine. I firmly believe she will be among our strongest allies in the Confederation.'

The news appeared to put Doge at ease, though Severus doubted there was much a Mugwump could do- no matter how often she had the Headmaster over for tea. Their biggest enemy in the Ministry was Cornelius Fudge, and he had already made his views quite clear.

'What about the goblins?' Bill Weasley asked.

Dung snorted in his drink. 'Goblins? What do we want 'em fer? We don' need no rebellin'!'

Filius frowned, but several laughed. Lupin however, nodded. 'Bill is right, they are a part of our world. Voldemort is as much of a threat to them as He is to us.'

Emmeline Vance leaned forward. 'I agree. We need all the allies we can manage. You-Know-Who is certainly searching for them- I say we do the same. We should put aside our differences and work together.'

'Hear, hear!' squeaked Filius, raising his teacup in a toast.

'Would you talk to the goblins, then?' Albus asked, peering at Bill through his spectacles.

'I don't see too many when I'm out hunting treasure… I suppose I could request a transfer, get a desk job…' Weasley did not look too thrilled at the prospect.

'What about the students, Albus?' Minerva asked. 'Will Hogsmeade Station and Platform Nine and Three-Quarters be safe?'

It was as if a dementor had swept into the room. Molly stifled a cry behind her hands, while a pale Black sunk down next to Lupin.

'There, there, Molly…' Arthur put his arm around his wife. 'We'll get the students home safe and sound.' He looked to Albus. 'Do you think King's Cross will be targeted again?'

'No, at this point Tom is gathering allies and information; He will not strike until He is ready.'

Many did not look convinced, so Severus chipped in his two Knuts. He crossed his arms over his chest, attempting to ignore the slight shaking in his hands. The muscle relaxant he had drank earlier was beginning to wear off. 'King's Cross is safe, as safe as anywhere can be at this time. The Dark Lord has yet to attack the same place twice. It is a set pattern and He has not deviated from it.'

'_Yet_,' Mad-Eye growled. 'I'd rather not bank the safety of the students on a "pattern".'

'Only a fool would attack King's Cross tomorrow,' Severus snarled. 'The Minister has denied the Dark Lord's return, thus leaving everyone susceptible to attack. If the Dark Lord were to attack King's Cross, it would only serve to prove He really _has_ returned. No, He will wait, reorganise His followers, reclaim His allies, and then, when He is ready, He will strike.'

'Severus is right,' Lupin said slowly, causing many to look at the werewolf in surprise, and Black to spit out his drink in shock. 'Because of Fudge, Voldemort virtually has free reign. He's going to use that to His full advantage; He wouldn't throw all that away so soon.'

The general room mumbled their agreement and Albus clapped his hands together. 'Now that that particular matter has been dealt with, shall we move on?

'Tom has regained His body a scant week ago, yet we already know a great deal of what He has been up to. Severus, at great personal risk, has returned to spy on Voldemort, and he has been able to learn some of what Tom is planning.'

After the Leaving Feast, the Headmaster had summoned him to his office to hear his report. Albus had little to say in response to Severus's information, though he had made it clear that when he was to reiterate his report for the benefit of the Order he was to leave nothing out. Severus had immediately objected- if the Order only doled out information on a need-to-know basis, leaks would be less likely to occur. But the Headmaster had remained adamant that he was to share _everything_. Including the existence of the thrice-damned prophecy.

Severus flicked his eyes over to Albus, who merely nodded. Tearing his eyes away, he sneered at the assembled group. 'The Dark Lord is in high spirits, despite His failure to do away with Potter the night of the Third Task. As the Ministry has yet to attempt any action against Him, the Dark Lord knows Fudge does not believe He has return. The Aurors were among His main concerns and without them He is able to focus on more important matters… such as the prophecy about Potter and the Dark Lord.'

The silence in the staff room was absolute and lasted for a good many moments.

'What prophecy?' Black asked, looking at the other Order members, hoping one of them knew what was going on. 'What prophecy?' he repeated, his voice rising.

The werewolf stared at the dregs in his tea. 'I suspected something like this had happened,' he said quietly. 'Remember that night at Godric's Hollow, around Valentine's Day?'

Black nodded slowly. 'I thought Lily was acting a bit off… but I just assumed she was worried about the baby.'

'So did I, but then I overheard her talking to James… Lily was going on about Voldemort going after the baby; she kept on saying they needed to be careful. After I heard that… I knew was something going on, but I just didn't know what.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' Black demanded.

'If Lily had wanted us to know, she would have told us herself,' Lupin said evenly.

Black, unable to think of a rejoinder, sulked for a moment before asking impatiently, 'Well, what does the bloody thing say?'

'I am afraid I cannot tell you,' Albus said to Severus's surprise. 'It is not that-'

'He's my godson!' Black leapt to his feet, toppling his chair. 'I deserve to know!'

Severus could not help feeling a bit smug. He might not know the entire prophecy, but he still knew more of it than the mongrel did.

Albus raised his hand. 'Sirius, I understand it must be frustrating for you, but we simply cannot risk-'

'Bollocks!'

'-Cannot risk Voldemort discovering the contents of the prophecy.'

'What we are concerned about, Black,' Severus drawled, 'is another one of your mates _ratting_ on us.'

Black's eyes flashed and Lupin flinched.

'Severus?' Minerva asked stiffly. 'Have you anything else to say?'

Severus finished his report, though admittedly there was not much he could give that the Order had not already surmised. General warnings, half-formed plans and speculation were all he knew.

'Well done, Severus.' Albus's eyes were solemn, his gaze understanding in such a way that Severus suspected the Headmaster at least had some inkling of what he had gone through to be allowed back in the Dark Lord's fold.

The Headmaster stood and chairs scraped across the stone floor as everyone followed suit. 'We shall reconvene on the fifth. If we have not found another location suitable for Headquarters, we shall meet here. Until then, try and convince those you can, and, as always, stay vigilant.'

The rest of the Order members lingered, but Severus had no wish to converse and slipped out of the staff room. He was almost to his quarters when his mind belatedly registered the sound of footfalls trailing him. He glanced over his shoulder then whipped around, unsheathing his wand.

Black was shaking with fury, teeth bared, wand out and a truly mad look in his eyes. Shockingly, he looked near tears. 'You bloody bastard,' he rasped. 'I'll kill you for this!'

'You've already tried, Black,' Severus said snidely, trying to sort out what the hell Black was going on about.

'And I wish it worked! I wish Moony had ripped you to shreds!'

He tightened his grip on his wand; it was public knowledge Black despised him, but still the rancor in Black's voice was beyond anything he had heard before.

'You made Regulus become a Death Eater- don't deny it, Bellatrix- Bellatrix told me! If it weren't for you-' Black sputtered, his rage choking his words.

'And your cousin certainly told the unimpeachable truth,' he sneered.

There was a flicker of doubt in Black's eyes, but it was driven away. _'Plavato_!'

He ducked and the curse soared overhead. _'Expelliarmus_!'

Black erected a shield and the red sparks glanced off; Severus seethed. He was exhausted, in pain and in no shape for a duel.

"A Disarming Spell? Going soft, _Snivellus_?'

He snarled, frightfully tempted to cast a Dark Spell or two, instead he nonverbally cast _Levicorpus _and _Liberacorpus_ in rapid succession- Black was yanked up into the air by his ankles and then dropped painfully on his head with an echoing _crack_. 'Not so amusing, is it?' Severus sneered.

The mutt scrambled to his feet. _'Ictus_!'

_'Prote-_' The hex hit him full on the face and he staggered back, blood spurting from his nose.

'You forced him into it!' Black roared advancing, though his wand was no longer pointed at him. 'You as good as killed him!'

Severus stiffened. 'I fail to see why you would care,' he sneered.

'He was my brother!' The shout echoed in the stone corridor, the word _brother _reverberating around them.

'You never cared about that fact before! You didn't give a damn about him!' Seeing Black was about protest, he barreled on. 'As soon as he befriended me you gave him up as a lost cause! If you cared so much, why didn't you try and stop him? But no, you ran away when he needed you the most!' His lip curled in disgust. 'Regulus was twice the man you are!'

Black snarled and pointed his wand straight at Severus's heart. He screamed, _'Crucio!'_

The curse slammed into his chest and he collapsed, limbs jerking, nerves aflame as a scream tore through his throat. The pain couldn't be borne, he was going to die… in the distance a terrified voice was yelling, _'Finite_! _Finite_! _Finite Incantatem_!'

It stopped. His arms and legs twitched spasmodically and his chest heaved with the effort to breathe.

Black was white as a sheet, eyes wide, a look of dawning horror on his face. 'I-no oh no, Merlin, I didn't…'

Severus continued to lie on the cold stone, struggling to bring his body back under control.

There was a popping noise and he managed to focus his eyes long enough to see a black dog running away.


	2. Fudge's Folly

Special thanks go to my beta, Bil, my britpicker, Charlio, my readers and those who review! You are all the best!

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Chapter Two: Fudge's Folly

_'Mankind is naturally divided into three sorts; one third of them are animated at the first appearance of danger, and will press forward to meet and examine it; another third are alarmed by it, but will neither advance nor retreat, till they know the nature of it, but stand to meet it. The remaining third will run or fly upon the first thought of it.' -John Adams_

* * *

'Hold the lift, please!' Hailey Ahlgrim called, rushing to the rapidly closing doors.

An arm wedged itself in the crevice between the doors and they sprung back, allowing her entrance to the lift.

Looking up to the owner of the arm, Hailey smiled. 'Thank you, Arnold.'

The Obliviator nodded. 'Which floor?'

'Five.' She braced her knee against the wall of the lift and placed her briefcase on it. Opening the briefcase she began to rummage through it.

'Running late are you?' Arnold asked, eyeing her harried state sympathetically.

She glanced at her watch. 'Nearly. I was on the Floo with France's Mugwump. He won't be able make it to the session. His wife is ill.'

'Is it serious?'

Hailey laughed, snapping her briefcase shut. 'She is a hypochondriac of the first order, so yes, I'm sure it's painful, chronic, and fatal.'

The lift ground to a halt. 'Level five, Department of International Magical Cooperation, Incorporating the International Magical Trading Standards Body, the International Magical Office of Law, and the International Confederation of Wizards, British Seats,' the recording intoned.

The doors opened and two memos zipped in as Hailey stepped out, bidding Arnold a good day.

It was exceedingly rare for an emergency session to be called, and Hailey was quite concerned, though when she opened the double doors to the General Assembly she made certain her expression was composed.

The General Assembly was a large ellipsoidal chamber with seven tiers on one side, each housing eleven members of the Confederation, and a large lectern on the other. Behind the podium was a marble sculpture of a witch with flowing robes. In her raised right hand she held a scroll, in her left hand, which rested at her side, she held her wand.

As always, Hailey was struck by the significance of _Signora Diplomazia_. She had always believed words and compassion were the better way, even though they worked slower than a wand. She wasn't naïve enough to think diplomacy would always work, but she thought it should be attempted whenever possible.

Hailey climbed to the second tier where her seat was denoted by a name plaque and a small flag of her country. She was almost the last to arrive. Moments after she had taken her seat, Greece's Mugwump, Matthias Pachis, entered the chamber, brushed some crumbs off his fustanella and sat heavily in his seat.

Albus Dumbledore was already at the lectern and, once Pachis was settled in his seat, began to speak.

'I would like to thank you all for coming on such short notice. I have always believed in the aims of this Confederation: to solve disputes peacefully, keep our world secreted from Muggle eyes, and to further peace and justice. Diplomacy, while admirable, is not always the answer for it requires both parties to adhere to reason and honesty. There have been times in Britain's history, in the history of all the countries assembled here, where diplomacy is not a choice, and those who are able must take up arms to protect all that is cherished and held dear… such a time is upon us now.'

An outbreak of whispers and murmurs followed this pronouncement. Hailey, her throat constricting, said nothing.

'A student of our school, Cedric Diggory, was murdered in the course of the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. The night of the event, Cornelius Fudge was summoned, though he did not believe my account of the events. I consider the truth to be generally preferable to lies, even if the truth is something frightening and terrible.

'A week ago, Voldemort regained His body and called His Death Eaters back into service. It was one of them who murdered Cedric Diggory.'

Gasps and cries of dismay resounded around the room and Hailey's hands flew to her mouth.

Wu Zhou leaned forward. 'You have evidence of this, Albus?'

The wizard nodded, and Hailey was struck with how old he suddenly appeared. 'Yes, we have an eyewitness account as well as the testimony of Bartemius Crouch, one of His servants.'

Denmark's representative, Ulrik Borgerlig, spoke. 'What are we going to do?' he asked.

Lino Guerro of Ecuador lifted his chin. 'We fight, we go after the_ puta_!'

'You are welcome to, Guerro. I, however, will not,' Hajar Bashir said slowly, his thick eyebrows furrowed.

Jacobus Arendock shook his head. 'You are being foolish, Mr Bashir. You think He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will limit Himself to Britain?'

'I know He will not," Bashir said, "but He will not be concerned with Sudan.'

Jacobus frowned. '"Strength Through Unity", that is my country's motto and I wholeheartedly believe it. Britain is in peril, I remember the days of You-Know-Who's first reign. Are we just going to leave her to her fate?'

Ingrid Bergfalk stood, her finely-tailored robes rustling with the movement. She was tall and slender, with long blonde hair, cunning eyes and cold smiles that never reached her eyes. Hailey had long despised her and the feeling was entirely mutual. 'Your phrasing is both exaggerated and melodramatic, Arendock,' she said, her voice cool, with a hint of a German accent. 'You speak as if not assisting Britain would be akin to murder. You forget that you need to be concerned with the affairs of your own country; Britain survived perfectly intact after the last…unpleasantness with the Dark Lord, I see no reason why that would change now, especially with such a _powerful_ wizard as Albus Dumbledore involved.' The last words were accompanied by a slight nod and twist of the lips.

'The Order of the Phoenix,' Hailey asked, 'what of them? Have they reorganised as well?' While the Order of the Phoenix was indeed a "secret" society, that is, that no one knew who the actual members were, it was widely known that Albus was its leader.

"Yes, the Order of the Phoenix has been resurrected and is-"

The door burst open then and Cornelius Fudge hurried inside, a wizard with red hair and horned-rimmed spectacles on his heels.

Fudge's eyes took in the sight of Albus at the lectern, the worried, shocked, frightened, and supercilious (only Ingrid Bergfalk fit this description) members of the Confederation and put the two together.

Swelling like a blowfish, the Minister advanced, pointing his pudgy finger at Albus. 'No, Dumbledore! I told you- I won't have you spreading those- those lies and unfounded speculation!'

'Doesn't sound unfounded to me,' Lino Guerro snapped.

'Why didn't you say anything?'

'How could you keep this a secret?'

_'Er du vansinnig? Eller bara en idioten_?'

Fudge stared at the rising tide of protesters with wide eyes. It occurred to Hailey then that Fudge did not realize how unpopular he was with the Confederation. Though the general populace liked Fudge, those who worked with him, or indeed knew anyone who did, most emphatically did not.

'Now, now see here, Dumbledore,' Fudge had taken off his hat and was twisting it nervously in his hands, 'I've always stood by you, even though many of your decisions have been…' He was unable to pinpoint the correct word and pressed on. 'But no more!' he cried, brandishing his hat. 'You broke the oath you took when you became a Mugwump of this Confederation and that is to tell the truth! In breach of that oath you are hereby sacked from the International Confederation of Wizards! You-'

Hailey was not the only one to leap to her feet at Fudge's declaration. Emiliano Adessi muttered a few Italian epithets under his breath before switching to English, 'Of all the-!' and an outraged Minister Oblansk cried, 'Vhat? You think _vhat_ is the answer?'

'Minister Fudge,' Hailey tried her utmost to sound calm, 'if you wish to remove Albus for perjury there must first be an inquiry, you cannot-'

'Do not tell me what I can or cannot do, Ahlgrim!' He turned to the aide at his side and hissed a few words in his ear. The young man nodded and left the room.

She had never seen Fudge act in this manner before, and for a moment was quite at a loss as to what to say. Lifting her chin, she quietly replied, 'I am merely reminding you of what the law says.'

Her answer only served to catapult his rage to new heights. 'Say another word, Ahlgrim, and I'll have you thrown off the Confederation as well!'

'On what grounds?' she demanded.

Fudge flustered for a minute, before stammering, 'I-I am sure I would be able find something!'

Lawrence Ware rose to his feet, his burned hands gripping his cane tightly. 'Listen to yourself, Minister, you are speaking madness!'

_'Silence_! Ahlgrim, I order you to _stand down_!'

Hailey crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the Minister in response.

'Stand down, Ahlgrim, unless you wish to be sacked from this Confederation!'

She gritted her teeth, but stood her ground. She had spent more than ten years in the Ministry… never had she imagined her political career would end in such a manner, but it would be unconscionable for her to stand aside.

Then she saw Professor Dumbledore shake his head. It was barely perceptible; Hailey was most likely the only one who spotted it. The Headmaster shook his head again, telling her to sit down.

Hailey took her seat and Fudge positively glowed with satisfaction. Not wanting to look as if Fudge had scored any sort of victory over her she said, 'As you wish… Professor Dumbledore.'

Fudge's eyes flashed and he whirled on Albus, who held up his hands in a placating manner. 'She is only following your directive, Cornelius.'

The double doors swung open and the young man reentered along with two Aurors, both of whom looked very serious.

Fudge motioned them over. 'Williamson, Dawlish, escort Dumbledore off of the Ministry premises.'

Both of them looked at Fudge in shock, but after a moment of hesitation seized Dumbledore by the arms and took him out of the room.

'And furthermore,' Fudge continued, his voice rising with every word, 'any Ministry of Magic employee discovered spreading lies about the so-called rebirth of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or Dumbledore's band of vigilantes will be sacked!'

Eelis Laukkanen jumped to his feet, hands clenched. 'And what of us? You forget, Minister, we are not under your country's jurisdiction!'

'If any of you so much as breathe a word about this, Britain will no longer welcome you as a member of this Confederation and we will embargo all of your country's exports- you do not want to make me your enemy, Laukkanen!'

And with that parting threat, the Minister for Magic left the Grand Assembly Room.

Lino Guerro drew his wand and made to head after Fudge but was halted by Mr Torres who grabbed his arm and began speaking to him rapidly in Spanish.

All around her, the debate flew fast and furious, but Hailey was unable to pay it much heed. She raised a trembling hand up to her face and pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

'You did the right thing, Hailey,' Lawrence said, laying a gnarled hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head. 'No,' she said, her voice hollow, 'no I did the cowardly thing.'

'I was watching Dumbledore, he wanted you to sit down.' He squeezed her shoulder. 'I am truly sorry.'

For a moment, she tried to work out what he meant, for it could mean so many things, then it hit her. _Voldemort._

'I-I have to go,' she said shakily, gathering her things and climbing to her feet.

'I know,' he said simply; there was such understanding and compassion in his eyes that it pained her to look at them. She embraced him, and then made her way to the door.

Amidst the bedlam Hailey thought Lawrence was the only one to notice her departure, then she saw Ingrid Bergfalk watching her with an icy smile.

Hailey glared, then opened the door and slipped out.

Once in the corridor, her steps quickened until she broke out into a run. She bypassed the lifts and yanked open the door leading to the stairs, descending them two at a time till she reached the eighth floor.

She stepped into the Atrium, her eyes scanning for Dumbledore. Finally she spotted his silver hair near the Visitor's Entrance and dashed over. 'Dawlish, Williamson, stop!' she commanded, trying to sound authoritative, which was difficult as she was attempting to catch her breath at the same time.

The two Aurors halted and turned, though they still kept a hold on Albus.

'Please, I need to speak to Professor Dumbledore for a minute.'

'Now, listen here,' Dawlish said gruffly, 'we've got orders- straight from the Minister himself- to escort-'

'Come on, John,' the other Auror said, 'she needs just a moment-'

Seeing that the grey-haired wizard appeared unconvinced, Hailey reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver _W_, her badge denoting her as a member of the Wizengamot.

'Very well,' Dawlish muttered, releasing Albus and stepping a few meters away; Williamson followed suit.

'Did you lose your post?' Albus asked.

'No… Albus, what were you thinking?' she cried, throwing her hands up in the air. 'The Confederation needed to be informed, I am not disputing that, but to do it in such a brazen manner! Why didn't you simply send us all owls? Now Fudge is threatening to sack any one who mentions… _Him_ or the Order of the Phoenix-'

'Is that so?' Albus interrupted, looking quite pleased.

_'Yes_, why are you-' She stopped as she realised what he was playing at. If there was any way to guarantee the "rumors" of Voldemort's rebirth would continue to spread it was by outlawing them to be spoken. 'You sly codger! That was brilliant- but I was almost sacked, I should have been sacked! Why did you tell me to stand down?' she demanded.

'Hailey, I know you are a strong witch, no one who knows you would accuse you of not sticking to your principles, but I could not allow you to throw your career away in such a manner. Now, more than ever, we need to ensure that people such as you, who know the truth of Voldemort's return, are in the Ministry.'

Hailey could see the sense in such a statement. With Albus no longer in the Ministry it was more important than ever for those who weren't in Fudge's pocket to stay in the Ministry, but… 'You made me take the coward's way out!' she accused.

'No, I prevented you from taking the easy way out.'

She blinked. 'The easy way out?' she repeated incredulously. 'It would have cost me my career!'

Albus surveyed her solemnly over his half-moon spectacles. 'At times it takes more strength, more courage to withstand injustice, to quietly strive against such forces than to sacrifice oneself in a grand, dramatic display of martyrdom.'

She considered his words for a moment and inclined her head. 'I suppose. You are correct, as always.' Hailey crossed her arms as if in defense of a sudden chill and turned her head away. 'I should tell my father about Vol- about what happened. It would be best if he heard it from me.' She quickly embraced the Headmaster, stepped away and Disapparated.

Her father would take the news of Voldemort's recrudescence especially hard.

The beginning of Voldemort's first uprising was marked by deaths and disappearances, and, as a result, many suspected all Voldemort was capable of was breaking in and murdering the poor residents like a common burglar. Terrible yes, but far from the catastrophe Albus and others were prophesying was imminent. The Ministry assured the uneasy public the number of Death Eaters was greatly exaggerated and Voldemort would soon be apprehended by Aurors.

Then, on the bright wintry morning of December 23rd 1970, everything changed.

Children were disembarking the Hogwarts Express at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and were being reunited with their families when Death Eaters struck. Hailey lost her mother and brother in what became known as the King's Cross Massacre, a terrible blow from which her father never truly recovered.

She worried her lip, forcibly dragging her mind to the present. She stood in front of the door leading to her father's study, but was greatly reluctant to enter. Sighing softly, Hailey opened the door.

Radulph Ahlgrim's study was in its usual state of disarray. Open tomes and parchments were scattered across the desk as well the odd gadget and gizmo. Her father was standing before a long chalk board full of Arithmatic equations.

'…five, five… the number of action and restlessness… no matter what variables I change the answer remains the same…' he muttered, 'but what does _she_ have to do with it all?'

Hailey delicately cleared her throat to announce her presence.

Her father turned around, his frown of consternation relaxing into a smile. He took his pipe out of his mouth. 'Hailey,' he said warmly, striding forward to embrace her.

She dropped her briefcase and threw her arms around him, holding him tightly, wishing she was once again a little girl and her father held the power to fix all that was wrong in her world. But that was years ago. Pulling away, Hailey deftly wiped her eyes.

Radulph's smile faded and his eyes grew solemn. 'What's wrong?'

Hailey swallowed and looked away, her eyes tracing the patterns on the intricate rug.

'What is wrong?' he repeated, grabbing her hands and holding them tightly. 'Hailey?'

'It's He-' Hailey could not bring herself to finish the thought. Once she spoke the words aloud they would become real on a level she could not bear.

Her father took a shaky breath and Hailey dove on.

'I know you've been hearing the rumours- about trouble brewing throughout all of Britain. With the Dark Mark appearing at the World Cup-'

He looked at her sharply, dread pooling in his eyes. 'No…'

'-the disappearance of Bertha and Mr Crouch-'

'Oh Merlin…'

Hailey threw her arms around his neck and held him as tightly as she could. 'Oh, Father, I'm so sorry, it happened-it happened,' her lips trembled and her rapid delivery failed, _'He's back._'

The tears came for both of them as he wrapped his arms around her.

They stood that way for quite some time, simply letting each other grieve. Voldemort had taken so much from them; her father had lost his son and his other half, while she lost her mother, brother and innocence. She was seven when her mother and brother were killed, her recollections of them were vague at best; though she remembered the afternoon of their deaths with horrifying clarity. Since then, her father had lived in the same fear that possessed all of Britain: the fear that someone else they loved was _next_. When she had turned eleven, her father sent her to Beauxbatons in France, and he was not the only one.

He pulled away and collapsed into his favorite armchair. He carded his fingers through his dark grey hair before putting his face in his hands. 'Start from the beginning.'

Hailey did so, telling him of Dumbledore's emergency meeting, his announcement, Fudge's rage, Albus losing his position, the Confederation's panic and the Minister's ultimatum. '…and then, I came here.'

Her father said nothing; rather he remained still, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the carpet. Suddenly, he stood and moved to the fireplace, bracing himself against the mantle with the hand not holding his pipe. 'You should go back to the Ministry; I expect you will be quite busy, especially now Albus is no longer part of the Confederation,' he said evenly.

Hailey hesitated, uncertain whether or not to leave her father alone.

'Go, Hailey.'

She went over to him, kissed him on the cheek and stepped out of the study. When she looked back, his gaze was fixed on the family portrait hanging above the mantle.

* * *

Stepping back into the Ministry, Hailey found it to be exactly as she had left it. She knew she was being ridiculous, but so much had changed in the course of the morning it was hard to believe that anything could remain as it was before. Yet the same witches and wizards milled about the Atrium, the brightly colored memos flew overhead and the symbols on the bewitched ceiling moved in their usual rhythm. She picked up her briefcase and slowly turned in a circle, taking in all the mundane sights that were so dear to her, realising that in the great scheme of things, in the face of the great conflict they would soon face, it all meant very little.

Hailey made her way to the queue in front of the lift, lost in her ruminations which carried her all the way to her office on the second floor. She opened the door to her office and was immediately set upon by her assistant, Clark Brown.

'Miss Ahlgrim! Have you heard? It's- It's-' Words failed him and he threw his hands up into the air. 'I never imagined this would happen!'

She dropped her briefcase onto her desk and turned to face Clark. As she held the role of both an Elder on the Wizengamot and a Mugwump on the International Confederation of Wizards she was given an aide, Clark Brown, a stout balding wizard with brown hair and a knack for remembering the most inconsequential details. Though "aide" was a term she used reluctantly as he was much more than that: Clark was her sounding board, her advisor, her confidante.

She sighed heavily. 'I know. I heard about it this morning. I could scarcely believe it either.'

'It's brilliant! I never thought we'd be so fortunate!'

Her face must be white as a sheet, she was certain of that. 'I-I'm sorry, Clark,' she stammered, 'my mind was elsewhere. _What_ is brilliant?'

He took a deep breath. 'You remember Orrell Taggart said a fortnight ago, at Wimple's retirement party?'

Thrown by the non sequitor it took a moment for her to respond. 'Vaguely. He said he could not recall hearing of one of the organisations receiving funding from the Ministry, correct?'

Clark nodded. 'The Society for Education and Enlightenment Regarding the Sight, or S.E.E.R.S., except that it doesn't exist.'

Her forehead scrunched together in confusion. 'Pardon?'

'The organisation doesn't exist,' Clark repeated slowly, a smile spreading across his face. 'Orrell got in touch with an investigator, and she was able to find three other such vapourous organisations created by Minister Fudge that still manage, by some clerical error I'm sure, to receive funds from the Ministry.'

'And _Fudge_ managed to orchestrate this? I would never imagine he had the guile to do such a thing!'

'Oh, he had help, of that I don't doubt, Miss Ahlgrim. But he nevertheless committed the crime and…'

Hailey knew her lips were twisted into a rather vindictive smile, but she could not keep her pleasure from being visible. 'And according to the Magus Carta, Fudge will no longer be the Minister for Magic.'

'A just cause for celebration, I think.' Clark pulled out a bottle of champagne from his desk and tapped it with his wand. '_Frigidiero_.' He popped off the cork of the now chilled bottle, conjured and filled two glasses, and handed one to her. 'Will you say a toast, Miss Ahlgrim?'

The fleeting sense of happiness she felt at the news of Fudge's imminent departure evaporated, leaving a painful hollowness in its wake. Tears prickled at the corner of her eyes and she bowed her head, her brown hair falling forward. Never had the future appeared so uncertain, or so greatly resembled a boggart lurking in a dark cupboard, waiting to take shape.


	3. The Servant With Two Masters

Special thanks, as always, go out to my wonderful beta, Bil.

* * *

Chapter Three: The Servant With Two Masters

"Look at a man in the midst of doubt and danger, and you will learn in his hour of adversity what he really is. It is then that true utterances are wrung from the recesses of his breast. The mask is torn off; reality remains." -Lucretius

* * *

_The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London._

Severus watched stoically as the dilapidated house that was the childhood residence of both his closest friend and worst enemy revealed itself. As much as he hated Black, he could not deny Grimmauld Place was the optimal location for the Order's Headquarters.

He rapped the serpentine knocker and the door was answered moments later by a dusty Molly Weasley. 'Oh, Severus, it's good to see you,' she whispered. It was evident she had been cleaning; her hair was wrapped up in a garish scarf, and a bottle of Mrs. Skowers was in her gloved hand, though as he stepped into the hall, it looked as if it had not been inhabited, much less cleaned, in over a decade.

Following his gaze, she explained, 'I started with the kitchen, that's where we'll have the meeting.'

He surveyed the thick cobwebs covering the crystal chandelier and the doxy-eaten tapestries. 'The house-elf… Kreacher, he died then?'

She made a distasteful face. 'No, he's still sulking around somewhere, he just decided to let the place rot.'

_A fitting tribute_, he thought, heading into the kitchen. Here, the cleaning prowess of the Weasley matriarch shone. The copper kettles glinted, the hearth was swept and all the cobwebs and dust were banished.

As he was the first to arrive he had the prime choice of the assortment of mismatched chairs and benches gathered from the house surrounding the table. Severus dragged one of the dining room chairs to the corner, sat down and waited for the others to arrive. His seat was half hidden in shadows and would afford him a clear view of all those in attendance, while they would have to crane their necks to properly look at him.

The door swung open and Black entered. Their eyes met over the sack of dead rats Black was carrying; Severus raised an eyebrow and Black beat a hasty retreat.

Severus had elected not to tell anyone of the incident that had taken place after the last Order meeting. Not out of a desire to spare Black, but because he knew the dread of waiting for the gauntlet to fall would be worse than whatever punishment the Headmaster would choose.

Molly Weasley entered a few minutes later. She had dispensed with the head scarf and gloves, and had expunged the dirt from her robes. She bustled about, pulling out pots and pans and various ingredients. Humming to herself, she flicked on the WNN.

There was a jingle for butterbeer ("_Barney says: I'm just batty about Butterbeer!_") and then the crisp voice of a wizard. _'Good evening and welcome to Ministry Matters, your source on the latest governmental news. I'm your host Barry Curtis. The Ministry is reeling from yesterday's tumultuous events and many Ministry officials have put in quite the awkward position. For more, I have with me Bathilda Bagshot, author of the world-renowned, A History of Magic. Bathilda, thank you for coming on.'_

_'It's always a pleasure, Barry,'_ she said, her voice quavering with her advanced age.

_'Let's get straight to the heart of the matter. Yesterday, Wizengamot charged Cornelius Fudge with embezzlement of Ministry funds, yet he has not stepped down, why is that?'_

The witch chuckled. _'Because there is no one to replace him! Traditionally, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would become Minister, but Madam Bones has chosen not to pursue the position.'_

_'So what happens now?'_

_'An open election will determine the new Minister. In the meantime, Fudge will remain Minister, though the scope of his power is greatly reduced and he will be monitored very closely.'_

_'What can we expect to happen with the election?'_

_'It will be held in this September. That is, of course, not much time from now, but all parties involved wish to remove Fudge as quickly as possible.'_

The discussion turned to potential candidates, at which Severus couldn't fully repress a snort.

Members of the Order began to trickle into the kitchen, and the room was soon filled with the hum of conversation. Aside from a nod of greeting from Minerva and a distrustful glance from Moody (which he returned with a sneer), he was largely ignored. Black who was seated next to Lupin was trying his best to pretend Severus did not exist; Black's lack of hostility was so out of character it caused Lupin to frown worriedly. Soon, they all settled around the table while they waited for the arrival of the Headmaster.

Suddenly there was a tremendous _crash_ in the entryway and a voice began to screech, '_FILTHY VERMIN! HOW DARE YOU_-'

Black swore angrily and ran out of the kitchen.

Many of the Order members looked quite taken aback, but Severus smirked to himself. It was not an uncommon (though expensive) practice for families to commission a bewitched portrait of their deceased loved ones. Usually, it brought a great sense of comfort to the surviving family, though if the individual was especially aggravating, the portrait was usually ignored, or became something of a conversation piece. Severus could not deny he found the idea of Mrs. Black continuing her lifelong persecution of her eldest son from beyond the grave rather gratifying.

'Shut it, you old hag!' Black yelled.

'_YOU! SHAME OF MY FLESH_!' Mrs. Black continued her diatribe, calling Black, among other things, a "worm", "mongrel," and Severus's personal favourite, "an odious stain upon society."

'_Sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't see_-' a witch's voice joined the cacophony.

Lupin rushed out to help and soon Mrs Black's shrieks were muffled and replaced with a shriek of surprise, '_Sirius! Smegging hell_!'

Several minutes later the doors opened and Albus entered followed by Lupin and Black, who was deep in conversation with a blue-haired witch Severus instantly recognised. Once Black and Lupin were seated, Albus addressed the group. 'I am pleased to introduce to you, Auror Nymphadora Tonks.'

She rolled her eyes. 'It's Tonks, just Tonks.' Greetings were exchanged, to which Tonks replied with a cheery, 'Wotcher!'

Severus sneered. Tonks exceeded Longbottom in incompetence, a feat which made him remember her particularly vividly and with particular distaste. She had managed to scrape by with an _O_ in her Potions O.W.L. by nothing but sheer determination. She also had a penchant for misbehaving that could not be deterred.

Charlie smiled at her. 'It's good to have you on board, Tonks. What finally made you see the light?'

'The Ministry, if you can believe it.' Tonks plopped onto the the bench and swung her legs over it, kicking Mundungus Fletcher in the process. 'The day before last the Ministry issued a decree to disregard any rumours of dark activity and told us not to mention you lot. When I came into work yesterday, there were notices everywhere telling us not to blab unless we wanted to clear out our desks. Of course, I knew something was up. So I-' Tonks spotted him and she stared at him, gobsmacked for a moment before she found her voice. 'Snape? Lord, I didn't think I'd be seeing you here. If anything, I thought you'd be with the other lot.'

He surveyed her coldly over his steepled fingers. 'And I never thought I'd see you pass my class- it appears we were both incorrect.'

Tonks screwed her face in anger; or at least that's what he thought it was before she sprouted inky black hair and a large, hooked nose.

Dedalus giggled loudly while the others tried to smother their sniggers with varying degrees of success. Black stared straight ahead with gritted teeth.

Severus remained seething long after the Headmaster called the meeting to order.

'…inside the Ministry was where we needed people the most,' Arthur was saying now, 'but now with the Minister's decree…' He shook his head.

'We could still talk to people, we'd just have to be careful,' Hestia Jones suggested. 'It's not like the words are Tabooed, right?'

Lupin shook his head. 'Too risky; and they'd hardly be sympathetic to our cause if we lost them their job."

'Has anyone been sacked yet?' Podmore asked. 'No one I know has, but then again, we Unspeakables are better at keeping our mouths shut.'

'Acantha Summers was given the elbow this morning, she's from the Invisibility Task Force,' Tonks said. 'She saw the notice and, silly berk that she is, she opens her big gob and asks, "What d'you mean we can't mention the Order of the Phoenix?" And someone overhead that and reported her. Personally I think it was Jessica Brocklehurst, she's been on a right warpath ever since Acantha started dating her ex, Apollo, and she was looking rather smug today.'

Severus sat up in his chair. 'You mean _anyone_ can report a Ministry official?'

Tonks nodded slowly. 'Yeah… all they needs to do is write up a report, submit it to the "Committee for the Assurance of Ethics and Accountability of Ministry Employees"', she made quotation marks with her fingers, 'that's a group of Fudge's mates he promoted to enforce this idiotic edict, and _bam _they're gone. They hardly even bother investigating it, they make sure the two at least had some contact with one another, but that's about it.'

'Well, we all know the Ministry can be a bit hasty when it comes to justice,' Black said bitterly.

Severus's lips curled into a smirk. 'I shall have to thank Fudge for this,' he muttered to himself.

Minerva leaned forward, having perceived a slight on one of her cubs. 'What was that?' she demanded sharply.

'Doesn't anyone else see it?' he asked. They all looked at one another and Dung mumbled, 'See what?'

Albus smiled, his eyes twinkling. 'An excellent idea, Severus.'

'Which is?' Doge asked, his voice wheezy.

Severus addressed Tonks. 'Tomorrow, when you go to work be sure to stop by the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, say you have a message to deliver, I don't care what, then you go and write up Walden Macnair.'

Tonks frowned. 'Who's Walden Macnair?'

His lips curled upwards. 'A Death Eater.'

It seemed everyone else had cottoned on, for they were all babbling excitedly. 'A capital idea!' Flitwick squeaked.

Lupin cleared his throat. 'But how long will it work? The Ministry will be bound to notice eventually-'

'And they will,' Severus said. 'At which point they shall have to repeal the damn thing before the Ministry whittles its way down to nothing. The Ministry might even reinstate those we manage to sack, but at the very least we will have greatly disrupted the Dark Lord's channels of information.'

'Why should we sack Macnair first?' Moody asked Albus, seeking some point with which he could argue with Severus. "Why not another Death Eater?'

'The Dark Lord will be seeking to ally Himself with those largely estranged from society,' Severus cast a sidelong glance towards Lupin, 'with good reason. Macnair is able to use his contacts within the Department for the Regulation of Magical Creatures to scout them out and appeal to them on the Dark Lord's behalf.'

Lupin and Black looked at each other. 'Macnair goes,' Black said, his tone leaving no room for dispute.

Just then the Mark on Severus's arm burned. His left arm twitched, but he gave no other outward indication of the pain. Rising, he gave an entirely superfluous glance at the clock on the wall, announced brusquely, 'I have other business to attend to,' and swept towards the door.

'What? Leaving so soon? Got a hot date or something?' Tonks called.

Moody guffawed loudly and much of the Order seemed to have been struck with a coughing jinx.

Severus's face twisted into a snarl, and he slammed the door, causing the hall of portraits to screech and scream once more.

* * *

The moor was dark, deserted, and blanketed by a layer of mist so dense it obscured Severus's feet and limited his vision to an ell's length. With nary a glance to the left or to the right, Severus stalked through the fog. For thirty paces the oppressive mist continued and then it ended abruptly and Severus emerged in a large clearing where a circle of cloaked figures stood, their pale masks glinting in the light of the waxing moon.

In the center stood the Dark Lord with Wormtail cowering at His side.

Severus strode forward and dropped to one knee. 'My Lord.'

The Dark Lord inclined his head in acknowledgment. 'Rise, Severus,' he commanded.

Tearing down the fortifications around his mind, Severus stood and met the Dark Lord's gaze, forcing a slew of memories to rise to the forefront of his mind.

Immediately images of the past few days flashed through his mind: him hexing Black, McGonagall trying to steer him into less volatile territory during the Order meeting, and him sipping his morning coffee with a scowl on his face.

The Dark Lord withdrew, His thin, bloodless lips curled into a smirk. He nodded, and Severus stepped back into the circle.

Contrary to what one might believe, the Dark Lord despised excessive fawning. He had an ego that needed stroking to be sure, but doing so was a tricky business. Excessive flattery struck the Dark Lord as insincere, and the only thing worse than being insincere was being ineffectual.

Though there were other things the Dark Lord despised as well. When Severus had Apparated to the Dark Lord after the Third Task he was nearly killed on sight; it had taken many bouts of the Cruciatus Curse, and other Dark Magic and much Legilimency before the Dark Lord was convinced he had never strayed from the cause, and that his absence in the Little Hangleton graveyard was to protect his standing as a loyal agent of Dumbledore's. Even then, many of the Death Eaters were rather leery of him, though they strove to give no outward indication of their mistrust.

Severus was among the last to arrive. Judging by the head count this would be a meeting with all of the Death Eaters (excluding those in Azkaban of course) in attendance. In the past there had been many gatherings where only a select few were called. There had also been times where it was just himself and the Dark Lord.

Two more figures entered the clearing, the first a tall, robust wizard who Severus tentatively identified as Walden Macnair, though with the mask it was impossible to be certain, and next to him… Severus sucked in a breath through his teeth, his face becoming pale under his mask.

Fenrir Greyback's yellow eyes swept the circle as he took his place next to Macnair.

'Fortune seems to have decided to favour Lord Voldemort at last.' The Dark Lord said, 'Thanks to Fudge's timely indiscretion we shall have the Ministry far sooner than I anticipated… for why trouble ourselves with breaking through the window when the door is wide open?'

Severus, who had a very good idea where this was going, swore fervently to himself.

'The door is indeed open, open for my trusted servant, Lucius Malfoy to enter the election and become Minister for Magic!'

In an instant, the boon of Cornelius Fudge's imminent departure had been revealed for the curse it really was.

Malfoy inclined his head. 'It is, as always, a honour to serve You, my Lord.'

The Dark Lord continued, 'Another wizard will be announcing his candidature tomorrow evening as well, a Professor Hubert Allgood. He is a fool and has spent years as Fudge's sycophant, hardly an opponent by any means.'

Severus had always dreaded the day Lucius Malfoy would formally enter the realm of politics. For a man of his wealth and influence whose only occupation was ordering house elves about and bribing Ministry officials it was inevitable. For a brief moment Severus casually considered whether a monkshood or asphodel based poison would work best in preventing Malfoy from being elected Minister, but the idea, for reasons he could not identify, was repugnant, and he pushed it away.

After ordering His followers to assist Lucius in his bid for Minister in any way possible, the Dark Lord then began to take reports from His servants. Severus listened attentively, committing every word to memory. The Dark Lord heard from all of them in turn, then He came to Severus. His eyes darted from side to side, then He hissed, 'Leave us.'

His followers hastened to obey, and the air was filled with the whip-like crack of Dissapparation, leaving only the Dark Lord, Wormtail, and Severus in the clearing.

The Dark Lord drew his wand, conjured a throne-like chair and sat. He gestured to the open area before Him. 'Sit.'

Severus produced a wingback chair and settled into it, while Wormtail hovered by the Dark Lord's side like a craven, slovenly dressed butler.

'Remove your mask.'

Severus did as he was ordered; pushing all from his mind except for the devotion he had felt for the Dark Lord so many years ago and met his Master's gaze evenly. And the interrogation began.


	4. The Opening Act

Special thanks go out as always to my beta, Bil, and to those who have reviewed.

Chapter Four: The Opening Act

_'Our doubts are traitors_

_And make us lose the good we oft might win_

_By fearing to attempt.' -William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure_

'We have been told that our world is in jeopardy, that our way of life, that our _very_ _lives_ are at stake! But where, I ask, is the proof? Only in rumours and lies! Are we to allow ourselves to be manipulated and governed by fear?' Lucius Malfoy paused from his rapid fired speech to take a sip from the glass on the podium.

Hailey Ahlgrim glared at the pureblood aristocrat running for Minister of Magic, keeping her arms staunchly crossed as the audience around her applauded. She glanced down at her notes: names of influential wizards or witches and how they seemed to receive his message, any character weaknesses she could spot or issues he did not address, and a sketch of Malfoy being skewered by an Erumpent. But now that Malfoy had warmed up to the subject, Hailey was jotting down everything he said. If Lucius Malfoy became Minister… Hailey would take a Portkey to Antarctica. Full stop.

'If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has truly returned, why has He not shown Himself? There have been no attacks, no deaths, and no Dark Order activity of any kind. My fellow witches and wizards...'

That was it. Hailey could not stand it anymore; just sitting there doing nothing. She gathered her parchment and Self-Inking Quill and, with many an "excuse me, pardon me", made her way to the aisle. She drew herself up to her full height (which was far from impressive), whipped her hair over her shoulder and marched out of the conference hall. It was a brilliant display of defiance, considering she had spent a hundred Galleons for her seat.

She could only hope Lucius Malfoy saw.

Hailey exited the lecture hall and took to wandering the streets of Diagon Alley in hopes of calming her tumultuous thoughts. After several hours, however, she was forced to give it up as a bad job and went to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo home.

Stepping out of the grate in the study, she brushed the soot off her robes and glanced about the darkened room. In the corner, Horatio, her scarlet macaw, was fast asleep on his perch. Her father's chalkboard had been moved to the side of the room and the instruments on his desk were silent.

It appeared her father had gone to bed early and for that Hailey was thankful. Recently her father had alternated between running countless equations in the study and spending long hours away from the house; what he was working on she could only guess.

Hailey tossed her notes on the desk, stoked the fire with a flick of her wand and threw herself into her father's old wingback chair, inhaling the comforting scent of her father's pipe as she ran her fingers through her hair.

The past fortnight had been a trial to be sure. First, she had learnt Voldemort had returned, then Fudge was discovered to be embezzling money and now Lucius Malfoy might very well be the next Minister, while people in the Ministry were getting sacked left, right and centre. Hailey had taken to sequestering herself in her office; she arrived by the fireplace and left in the same manner, she had also asked Clark to do the same and so far they had both managed to avoid being let go.

Her gaze strayed to the parchment on her desk, her mind wandering to Malfoy's speech. Lucius Malfoy was among the last people on earth she would want as Minister for Magic. And that was not simply because she had a personal vendetta against the man. Hailey stood and began to pace. _Ah yes, the infamous Malfoy/Ahlgrim rivalry._

The two families admittedly had much in common. Both were affluent, both had pure bloodlines, and both the Malfoys and Ahlgrims were known for their altruistic donations: the Malfoys practically had a wing in St. Mungo's named after them, and in about a month's time there would be the groundbreaking for Hailey's brainchild, the Plainsborough Lycanthrope Sanctuary, a hospital designed to provide treatment for werewolves and to provide a secure place for their monthly transformations.

After that, however, their families veered off in utterly different directions. While the Malfoys' pure bloodline was the result of careful planning, the Ahlgrims' bloodline came from pure chance. The Malfoys discriminated against half-bloods, muggles and muggle-borns; the Ahlgrims strove for equality. Each was the antithesis of the other. And if that, as well as their personal histories, were not enough to make the very _thought_ of Minister Malfoy repulsive- there were the rumours… rumours that Lucius Malfoy had not been put under the Imperius Curse during the War as he had claimed, but rather had acted of his own volition. She had no doubt he was capable of such things, his father, Abraxas Malfoy, was a monster and Hailey was quite certain that that case the Quaffle did not fall far from the goalposts. Still, the idea that Lucius Malfoy, a wizard who exercised so much influence in the Ministry, might be a Death Eater made her undeniably queasy. Hailey shook her head. Death Eater or no, Lucius Malfoy becoming Minister would spell disaster… yet there was nothing she could do.

Her discouraged thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door; Hailey started, and then called. 'Come in!'

It was her father, and judging by the thick book under his arm, sleep had been eluding him as well. 'I was wondering when you would come home,' he said. 'Lucius Malfoy's speech did not just wrap up, I hope?'

Hailey shook her head. 'No, I spent the last few hours attempting to shake off my righteous indignation.'

He chuckled, though there was the flinty glint in his eyes that appeared whenever the Malfoys were the topic of discussion. He settled in his chair and began to pat the pockets of his dressing gown muttering, 'Pipe, pipe, oh, where is the blasted thing?' When his search came up empty, he raised his wand. _'Accio_ pipe!' and the pipe sailed into his hand from under a pile of parchments on his desk. He stuck it in his mouth and another two waves of his wand had the pipe stuffed and lit. "So, has your righteous indignation worn itself down to a bearable level yet?"

Hailey nodded and took a seat across from her father.

'Good. Now what did Malfoy have to say?'

'Nothing unexpected. He seemed to alternate between calling Albus senile and accusing him of being an alarmist. No, what was more surprising was what he _didn't_ say.'

'Which was…?'

'Anything about pureblood supremacy; he avoided the topic entirely.'

'Well, you cannot expect he would alienate his potential voters in such a way,' her father pointed out.

Hailey inclined her head. 'True. I suppose I just did not think he was that good a thespian.'

'We shall have to wait and see if that remains true, this is only the opening act.'

'Of what will doubtlessly be a great tragedy.'

Her father took the pipe out of his mouth and regarded her seriously. 'That is uncharacteristically pessimistic of you.'

Hailey sighed, rubbing her face tiredly. 'My usual optimism has gone on holiday, I'm afraid.'

The pair was silent for a few minutes: Radulph occupied with his pipe while Hailey gazed into the fire. 'I hate to be the one to say it,' her father said at last, 'but unless something drastically changes, I believe Malfoy shall be our next Minister. His only opposition is Professor Allgood, and everyone knows he is only running at Fudge's behest.'

She scowled, then glanced slyly at her father as an idea began to form in her mind. 'You know who would be the perfect candidate? Someone from a respectable pureblood family, but who doesn't believe in pureblood supremacy, one who has experience in the Ministry-'

Radulph held up his hand. 'I know what you are getting at and the answer is no. I retired from the Ministry decades ago. I never intend to go back, especially now He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has managed to resurrect Himself. I do not say that out of cowardice; I believe my place is at Hogwarts as School Governor, even if it is not as prestigious as Minister for Magic.'

Hailey was tempted to dispute the matter, but she knew it would accomplish nothing. 'So Malfoy is our new Minister then?'

'Perhaps not.' Her father leaned forward conspiratorially. 'I have heard rumours of another possible candidate.'

'Who is it?'

'One who fits your criteria- a pureblood who does not give a damn about bloodlines, one with plenty of experience in the Ministry- a close friend of mine, in fact.'

Hailey wrinkled her forehead. 'Who?'

Her father arched an eyebrow and gave her a pointed look.

She returned the stare for a moment before comprehension set in. _'What_!' She leapt out of her seat. 'Father, you cannot be serious!'

He smiled widely. 'Why ever not? You have quite the reputation in the Ministry- a good one, which is no small feat. You are on both the Wizengamot and the International Confederation of Wizards, for Circe's sake! You and Albus are the only ones to accomplish such a thing in the past century.'

She strayed over to the hearth and ran her hand over the ornate mantelpiece, her thoughts flying in so many directions she was uncertain which one to pursue first. 'You… you think I would be a good Minister?' she asked at last.

Her father nodded. 'Undoubtedly.'

Taken back by the absolute conviction in his voice, it took her a moment to answer. 'I- I am honoured.'

'Well,' he prodded after a minute. 'What do you say, hm?'

Hailey shook her head. 'In order for my name to even _appear_ on the ballot as an eligible candidate I would first have to collect nine hundred and ninety-nine signatures and submit them to the Ministry. _Nine hundred and ninety-nine _promised votes. Do you truly think I could get that many?'

Radulph stood and went over to his desk and began to rifle through stacks of parchment. 'Hailey,' he said with a small smile, 'there are occasions where I wonder if your humility does not cross the line into a lack of self-confidence.'

She scowled. 'It's not a lack of self-confidence,' she argued, 'it's… it's more an acknowledgment of everything that is at stake.' She shook her head. 'What makes you so certain I could get the promised votes?' She glanced at the chalk board. 'Have you been running the numbers?'

Instead of answering, he extracted a large scroll from the pile on his desk and held it out to her.

She took the proffered scroll, immediately recognising the symbol on the wax seal: it was of a dog standing protectively over a small bird- the same seal, the Ahlgrim family crest, appeared on all post Hailey sent. She broke the green seal and watched as the parchment unfurled, hit the ground and trailed a good metre behind her. Taking a deep breath, Hailey skipped the opening paragraph (which began "_We the undersigned_") and began to read:

_Radulph Ahlgrim_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Amelia Bones_

_Dirk Cresswell_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Stamford Jorkins_

Hailey's eyes widened as she continued to scan the list. Some of the names she knew; she spotted the signature of Tom from the Leaky Cauldron and as well as that of Galen Fezziwick, a kindly old wizard whose love of enthusiastic plants had landed him in a spot of trouble with the Ministry. Many other names, however, were wholly unfamiliar. Hailey felt her eyes grow moist as she cleared her throat. 'I-I don't know what to say.'

Her father smiled, capturing her hands tightly in his. 'Say you will run and give these people something to hope for; try, that is all I ask.'

'It still seems like quite a bit,' Hailey said with a quavering laugh. 'I'll consider it, but I can promise nothing more.'

He nodded, satisfied. 'I shall leave you to it, then.' He kissed her forehead and exited the study, shutting the door softly behind him.

_Minister for Magic_… The idea was preposterous and yet… and yet Hailey could not eject it from her mind. She remembered vividly her first day at the Ministry as an assistant to Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Her duties were rather menial: running reports to various departments, taking messages while Madam Bones was out, fetching tea and the like; but Hailey did not mind, for she truly felt she was doing some good. However, Hailey quickly came to realise the Ministry she worked in was radically different from the stories her father had told her as a child: people were now more concerned with ensuring failures were not traced to them than doing the job right, tasks were now shunted from department to department to department… In short, everything possible was done to reduce the Ministry to an inefficient labyrinth that was impossible for the common wizard to navigate.

But if she became Minister, Hailey could work to change all that. She could restore the Ministry to its former glory. Ideas, schemes, fears and doubts, flittered half-formed through her mind till she felt the twinges of an impending headache. Hailey exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. Eventually, her eyes strayed to the roster in her hand. She had been given a chance, a chance to do more than she had ever dreamed…

But then there was the matter of Voldemort. Hailey was a fighter, no one doubted that, but she fought with her quill, not her wand.

The flames from the fireplace danced across her face, making her brown eyes look fierce and bright. She had much to consider, and she stayed up much of the night, the fire waning as her heart and her mind warred with one another.


	5. The Heart Has Its Reasons

Yes, it has been _far_ too long since my last update. I shall not regale you with tales of everything that happened that made it (as my beta called it) The-Chapter-That-Shall-Be-Delayed, suffice it to say it was a lot.

And as always, special thanks to to my beta, Bil, and those who have reviewed the story.

* * *

Chapter Five: The Heart Has Its Reasons

_'The only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.' -Edmund Burke_

* * *

'You are barking mad.' Clark calmly informed her the next morning as he handed her a cup of hot tea and the _Daily Prophet_.

Hailey ignored the headline (_"MALFOY TROUN__CES ALLGOOD IN LATEST POLLS")_ and focused on the wizard before her_. _'Perhaps,' she allowed.

Clark sat down heavily in the chair facing her desk. For the very first time in her acquaintance with the man, he seemed at a loss for words.

The self-doubt that had been plaguing her ever since she had made her decision rose up like a wave; she took a sip of her tea (scalding her tongue) to conceal her frown. 'Is it so hard to imagine me as Minister, Clark?'

'On the contrary, it is entirely _too easy_.'

She blinked in surprise. 'Then, why...?'

'With You-Know-Who having returned, do you truly think it is the safest course of action to run for Minister?' He managed a pained smile. 'I have grown rather fond of you, Miss Ahlgrim; I should hate for you to come to harm.'

'This isn't about me, Lucius Malfoy, or even Cornelius Fudge. We are on the cusp of something far greater than ourselves and I have been given the chance to do so much more.'

'Look at what you have already done! You single-handedly negotiated the China-Britain trade agreement! You're building a sanctuary for werewolves, not to mention the-'

Hailey set her teacup down with a _chink _and began to pace agitatedly for a minute as she tried collect her thoughts before laying her palms flat on her desk and leaning forward to look her assistant in the eye. 'Clark, you remember even better than I do what it was like during the War. And that is not the world I want to live in! A world were the content of one's blood is more important than the content of their character, where one's life is at stake merely because he fell in love with a Muggle or gave birth to a Squib... I won't sit by and do nothing, not if I can help it!' Hailey crossed her arms. 'Well, Clark are you with me on this?'

'Of course, Miss Ahlgrim, you know I would follow you down a dragon's throat.'

She could not help but smile. 'Remind me to give you an extra large bonus this Christmas.'

He nodded. 'I shall be sure to make note of it.' He sat down at his desk with his quill poised. It was his classic stance when he was about to "get down to business." 'You are going to need some people with experience in political strategy and public relations to assist you. I know of a witch who is exactly who we need.'

'Perfect.' Grabbing her briefcase, Hailey made her way to the door. 'I am going to see Albus, I'm hoping he will be able to give me some evidence of You-Know-Who's return.'

When she received no response, she glanced over her shoulder. Clark was at his desk, scribbling away with his quill.

* * *

'Here's your stop, Miss,' Ernie Prang announced, slamming on the brakes.

It took a second for the driver's words to register, as Hailey, along with the other passengers, was busy picking herself off the floor and righting her chair. Hailey made her way to the front of the triple-decker, pausing to hand a wizard his Lunascope that had rolled into the aisle.

'Thanks, Ernie,' she said, tossing a Sickle to the driver and another to the conductor (who promptly dropped it.)

She stepped off the bus, glad to be on firm ground at last. With an ear-splitting _BANG_ the Knight Bus disappeared, leaving her alone outside Hogwarts's gates.

It was a curious feeling, to finally find herself here after all these years; she couldn't help feeling a strange sort of nostalgia for something she never had. Hogwarts was where her parents had met and fallen in love; her father had proposed to her mother on the Astronomy Tower. It was the place where her brother had spent the final months of his life, only just embarking on his magical education. Ever since she was a little girl she had eagerly awaited the day she would go to Hogwarts, and walk the same corridors as her parents, maybe even be in same House as her mother or brother (her father said he couldn't see her as a Hufflepuff like him); after her mother and Charles had passed, the desire had only grown. She had felt betrayed when her father had informed her he was sending her to Beauxbatons; it was the worst row they had ever had.

But now, here she was. _Only twenty-one years late._

Hailey put her hand on the wrought iron gate and to her surprise it swung open, as if it had been expecting her all along.

Draped over the crest of the hill, Hogwarts Castle was a magnificent sight. To her left was the Forbidden Forest, which in the bright sunlight appeared far from the dangerous woodland her father had sneaked into on a dare. The grounds were subdued by the heavy summer air with the lethargic humming of insects accompanied by the stray call of birds. The standards hung limply against the flagpoles above the Quidditch stadium like a wet cloak.

It was a lengthy walk up the meandering path to the front doors, but Hailey did not mind. She often took walks to clear her mind- on the family grounds, about Diagon Alley and even in the halls of the Ministry long after everyone else was gone. And with everything that had happened in the past couple weeks she certainly had much on her mind.

Once she was inside she was able to find Albus's office quickly, thanks to a helpful, if 'nearly headless' ghost. He told her the password was always some type of confection; after trying "Pumpkin Pastries," and "Sherbert Lemons" (she knew Albus had a fondness for that particular sweet), she struck gold with "Fudge Flies" and the gargoyle sprang to the side, allowing her to step onto the revolving staircase.

At the door, she raised her hand to knock, but stopped when she heard raised voices.

'...be reasonable! What will it take for you to admit you were wrong? I know better than any what we are up against!' the wizard shouted, 'Are you willing to risk-'

'Silence!' This from Albus- 'It is not that I doubt your ability-'

'It is that you do not trust me.' It was an accusation, and the ensuing silence seemed to confirm it. 'Very well. Perhaps you could hire Lockhart again,' the man snarled, 'as he was such a capable professor; or Crouch- except that he was a servant of the Dark Lord and is now lacks a soul, surely one of those must rule him out.'

Albus muttered something she could not hear.

The door was wrenched open and Hailey had just enough time to flatten herself against the stairwell before a man in black robes stormed passed. He glanced over his shoulder and Hailey caught a glimpse of dark eyes, an aquiline nose and harsh features that were not at all softened by the man's Vandyck before he turned and vanished down the spiral staircase.

'Come in, come in!' Despite the argument that had just occurred, the Headmaster appeared to be his usual, genial self. He offered her a seat. 'Well, Hailey this is certainly unexpected. What can I do for you?'

Hailey glanced at the numerous portraits lining the wall who all looked back with varying degrees of interest; she hadn't meant to have this conversation with an audience.

'Not to worry, my dear,' he assured her with a smile, 'there's nothing they haven't heard.'

Hailey settled into the large, squishy armchair in front of his desk, a smile working its way onto her face despite herself. She was nervous about entering the race for Minister, and she was full of many doubts, but she did not doubt that she was doing the right thing and was eager to share the news with the man who had been her father's friend, then hers, for so many years.

His eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. 'So you're entering the race, hmm? I was wondering when Radulph would get around to asking you.'

'As omniscient as always, Albus. Yes, I'll be making the announcement tonight.'

'Omniscience has nothing to do with it,' he said with a smile. 'I knew that if given the chance you would not pass up such an opportunity. Now how can I help you?'

She took a deep breath. 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned, that is a truth I am not about to deny, but I need evidence if I am to convince anyone else. I hope to establish myself as a viable candidate before I share my belief in His resurrection and ...unnerve the public.'

The Headmaster let her gross underestimation slide. 'I am afraid I'm not the person you need to see.'

'Who could it be if not you?'

'Harry Potter; he will be able to tell you what you need to know. The boy saw everything.'

'He _saw_? You mean- oh Merlin.' Hailey passed her hand through her hair before her fingers got caught in her chignon. With a huff of frustration she pulled out the pins and shook her hair loose and after a few futile attempts to redo her hair, kept it down. 'I hate to put the boy through anything else, but you know I need to speak with him.'

Albus leaned forward. 'I am going to allow you speak to Harry, but only because I know he is strong enough to face reliving it again.'

The phoenix perched by the window fluttered onto the Headmaster's shoulder. Albus stroke the bird's scarlet plumage and the bird issued a soft _kweh_ in response.

'Thank you. If I can just have his address-'

He held up a hand. 'That I cannot do. I will have a professor escort you.'

He didn't have to say why. Hailey understood the need for security and did not object, though she thought it it unusual that a Hogwarts _professor_ would be assigned to the task.

Albus took some Floo Powder from a garish vase on the mantle and threw it into the fire. 'Severus, a word, please.' The fire flared green and a wizard, the same one as before, stepped out of the flames.

She had the sudden feeling that her interview with Mr. Potter would not be entered into her annuls of "Most Enjoyable Occasions."

'Headmaster.' He too seemed to have forgotten the argument that had just occurred, though when he spotted her, he scowled darkly.

'Severus, I would like you to meet Hailey Ahlgrim, Supreme Mugwump in the International Confederation of Wizards and Elder on the Wizengamot. Hailey, Professor Snape, our Potions Master and Head the Slytherin.'

She stuck out her hand and smiled gamely. 'How do you do?'

The Professor's arms remained crossed.

'As I am not the ambassador of any country or an accused on trial,' he drawled, 'I don't see why you summoned me.'

Albus shot the wizard a reproving look over his spectacles, but it was ignored.

Hailey had met with many less-than pleasant characters, both immoral criminals and unctuous politicians, and easily remained unfazed by his derisive attitude. 'I need to speak with Mr. Potter, on a matter of some import, and Albus kindly volunteered you to accompany me,' she said, tacking on an extra sweet smile for effect.

The man's glare was undeniably impressive. His eyes flicked over to Albus, who dipped his head in agreement.

Still he would not so much as acknowledge her, so Hailey decided to give him a reason to. Crossing her arms, she said simply, 'I am running for Minister for Magic.'

_That_ got his attention. He raised a thick eyebrow. 'Is that so?'

She nodded.

A beat of silence, then, 'What is your position on the Bill of Goblin Rights?' Though it was a question, he made it sound more like a demand.

Hailey was surprised, and while the question was not germane to the matter at hand, answered nonetheless. 'I believe we are rarely in error when we extend rights to other beings.'

Professor Snape fired off another question, then another, asking for her stance on everything from foreign relations to the 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct. She answered all his questions, though she was unable to determine whether her responses pleased him, for his face remained stoic throughout.

'Meet me at the castle gates at twelve o' clock tomorrow,' he ordered brusquely.

She would have to shuffle several appointments to make it work, but agreed nonetheless.

Glancing at the clock squeezed between two portraits, Hailey decided she should head back to her office. She was about to turn and take her leave when she came to the sad realisation that neither of them had made any small talk. He hadn't inquired after her father and she had not shared any of the entertaining anecdotes common to anyone who has worked in a government bureaucracy. She shared a melancholy smile with Albus who, of course, understood.

'Goodbye Albus,' she nodded at the dark wizard, 'Professor Snape.'

She exited and closed the door behind her, leaning back on its smooth surface with a sigh.

'Well, Severus,' she heard Albus ask, 'what do you think?'

Feeling slightly guilty, she pressed her ear against the door to hear the man's answer.

Albus prompted him again. 'Well?'

'She will do.'

Hailey was exceptionally pleased to have proven herself to the acerbic professor and barely managed to smother a triumphant _ha!_ As an utter stranger, his opinion shouldn't have mattered and yet, somehow it did. She wasn't a halfwit, if Albus asked Professor Snape to accompany her to ensure her safety, and Mr Potter's, it was likely that this man was more than a Hogwarts Professor. She may have just met a member of the Order of the Phoenix.

Curious if the professor had anything else to add about her, she remained where she was. But Albus merely enquired after a gentleman by the name of Tom.

Hailey hurried down the stairs. It was time to head back to her office. She had a speech to write.


	6. Privet Drive

Special thanks to my beta Bil, and to all those who take the time to review- you are all a wonderful inspiration!

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Chapter Six: Privet Drive

_'Men perform and engenders so much more than he can or should bear.' -William Faulkner_

* * *

Harry Potter lay sprawled on the sofa, reading The_ Daily Prophet_ and listening with half an ear to the newsreader on the telly. He had heard or read no news of any suspicious deaths or disappearances so, as far has Harry could speculate, Voldemort was being quiet for the time being. The telly was reporting on the Prime Minister's latest going-ons, while the front page of The_ Daily Prophet_ covered a witch named Hailey Ahlgrim who had announced her candidature last night. Harry hoped Lucius Malfoy didn't become the next Minister for Magic- he hated to think what a Death Eater could do in that position. Not to mention it would make Draco Malfoy even insufferable than he already was.

He was able to get away with using the Dursleys' furniture because Aunt Petunia was in the kitchen preparing dinner; his cousin was in the kitchen as well having his before-dinner-snack. Uncle Vernon was out golfing with some potential clients, leaving Harry to wonder if the golf buggy would be capable of holding his uncle's weight.

Dudley was begging Aunt Petunia to take him to the amusement arcade. 'But I want to go! Dad said you'd take me,' he lied.

Whether or not Aunt Petunia gave in to Dudley's whinging, Harry never found out.

The doorbell rang and Harry, thinking it might be his cousin's friends, Piers and Gordon, leapt off the couch and headed for the stairs.

'POTTER!' Dudley yelled. 'Get the door!'

He remained where he was; if Dudley went outside with his mates, Harry would stay in his room, but if they came inside, he would make a break for the back door. He pressed himself against the stairwell and waited for someone to answer the door. The doorbell rang again and was accompanied by pounding on the door.

'Where is that dratted boy?' Aunt Petunia muttered. 'Dudders,' she continued in that saccharine voice reserved for her "Ickle Diddykins", 'get the door please, I'm elbow deep in meatloaf.'

His cousin groaned loudly, but went to the door (Harry could hear the floorboards squeaking).

The door swung open and Dudley screamed at the top of his lungs. Harry whipped out his wand and prepared to charge into the parlour when he was nearly trampled by his fleeing cousin. Dudley clambered up the stairs, one meaty hand clamped securely over his backside, the other floundering in search of balance.

Standing in the doorway was the last person Harry would ever expect to darken his doorstep: Snape. In that split second the two separate lives Harry had been living: wizard at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and delinquent attending the fictitious St Brutus's Academy for Incurably Criminal Boys, had coalesced into one.

Snape looked as imposing as ever, dressed as he was in his heavy black robes. His arms were crossed over his chest and while he appeared momentarily caught off guard at Dudley's flight, he quickly composed his expression into his customary sneer.

'Perhaps the poor boy is disturbed,' the witch standing next to Snape said, searching for an explanation for Dudley's unexpected terror. She was more than a head shorter than Snape, pretty, and clad in robes as well- sapphire blue with a matching pointed hat. She was carrying a briefcase (like Mr Weasley's, only less worn) and with her chocolate brown hair and cordial air, Harry rather thought she seemed too friendly to be in Snape's company. He realised with a jolt that she was the witch on the cover of The_ Daily Prophet_, which would make her none other than Hailey Ahlgrim.

Aunt Petunia rushed into the room, stopping dead at the sight of two people who, with their wizard garb, were obviously magical. But she recovered quickly. 'Just who do you think you are?' she demanded.

_'Professor_ Snape,' he said with a sneer, laying a strange inflection on the word, 'and this is-'

'Hailey Ahlgrim,' she smiled and stuck out her hand. 'Pleased to meet you.' After several moments of standing in the doorway with her hand extended, the witch accepted that the chances of having her hand shaken were astronomically low and dropped her hand. She cleared her throat. 'Mrs Dursley, I was wondering if you would permit me to have a private audience with your nephew.'

Aunt Petunia ignored her and regarded Snape disdainfully before sticking her nose in the air. 'Absolutely not,' she said primly.

Snape made a cursory glance about the room with its abundance of lace, floral fabrics and dainty figurines and arched an eyebrow condescendingly. 'That,' he said, 'is a hideous sofa.' Aunt Petunia made a strange choking nose and balled her manicured hands into fists. 'But,' Snape continued airily, 'it does match the curtains.'

'How dare _you-'_ Aunt Petunia was so enraged she could finish her thought. 'OUT!' she screeched. 'Go! Get out of my house!'

'Ma'am,' Miss Ahlgrim began, 'it is-'

'No! I want you to leave this instant! I've had enough of your kind!' She threw a hateful glance in Harry's direction.

Many years ago, Harry had come to accept the Dursleys would see him as nothing more than a nuisance, a burden that had been placed on their doorstep. He did not want to believe it, but for a split second he felt a twinge of pain, like a needle pricking a finger.

'Yes, I quite imagine you have.' Snape's voice was so chilling Harry shivered.

Aunt Petunia looked away, a flicker of what might have been guilt flashing across her face before it was overcome by the bitterness and spite she had always managed to amass in such large quantities. 'I-I still want you to leave,' she said in a poor attempt at bravery.

Snape crossed his arms. 'And once we finish we will, but how we leave is up to you. We can leave through the back door and disappear without a sound or, we can leave with all the pomp and circumstance as if the Queen herself had come for tea.' He glanced to the witch at his side. 'Ahlgrim, do you think you could arrange for a dragon-drawn carriage?'

The threat, ridiculous though it may have been, worked splendidly and Aunt Petunia fled upstairs, slamming the door shut behind her.

Now that Aunt Petunia was gone, the strangeness of the situation and the dread of seeing Snape was settling in and twisting Harry's stomach into knots.

'Professor,' Miss Ahlgrim said, rounding on Snape, 'I must object to you treating Mrs Dursley in such a manner, she is-'

'-a complete waste of oxygen,' Snape finished.

She frowned, though decided to wage that row at another time, if not abandon the battle entirely, as she reached over and shook Harry's hand. 'Mr Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you.' Her eyes performed the upward flick to his scar that he was all too familiar with. She smiled embarrassedly when she realised she was caught.

_'... Marwell Zoological Park welcomes a new baby okapi...'_ In all the commotion the telly had been forgotten.

The witch started at the voice, pulled out her wand and pointed it at the goggle-box. '_Silencio_!'

_'...the okapi is a mammal that looks like a cross between a giraffe and zebra...'_

Snape was unable to fully repress a snort. He picked up the television remote and, after staring at it for a moment, jabbed a button with his finger. The telly turned off. Snape then pointed Harry to the sofa. 'Sit.'

Angry that he was being ordered about in his own house, Harry glowered at Snape, but sat down nonetheless. 'What are you doing here?' he asked, his voice making it clear he was not happy that Snape was "here."

Miss Ahlgrim perched herself on the armchair across from him. 'He's with me,' she said simply. Snape's resulting glare made Harry suddenly like her very much. 'How are you enjoying your holiday so far?' she asked kindly. 'It must be nice to sleep in and not worry about lessons.'

Aunt Petunia never let him sleep in and he was worrying about things much bigger than school, but he didn't say so. Instead he shrugged. 'It's okay.'

She waved her wand and a tea set appeared in mid air, where it levitated for a moment before Miss Ahlgrim directed it to the coffee table. 'Tea'?' she offered.

Harry shook his head.

'Oh! I almost forgot!' She began to be digging around in her briefcase which, like the bewitched boot of Mr Weasley's car, seem to contain far more than its size suggested. She pulled out a pair of Quidditch gloves and gave them to him with a smile.

'Wicked!' Harry had always had to use a pair of the school's gloves for the games and these were much nicer. The fingerless gloves were made of leather with plenty of buckles and straps and padding. Ron would be begging to borrow them. He then frowned, wondering why a complete stranger was giving him gifts. After Cedric died, his classmates either avoided him or were especially nice to him. A Ravenclaw girl he had never even spoken to offered to tutor him in Potions, while Hannah Abbott did an about-face when ever they crossed paths. Harry figured this was another example of such sympathy and was tempted to reject the gift, but he thought it would be rude to do so.

'Think of it as a birthday present, if you'd like,' she said, noticing his discomfort, 'one that's either early or exceedingly late.'

'Er... thanks. But what do you want?' On second thought, that didn't sound too polite. 'I mean, why are you here?'

'Enough of the pleasantries, Ahlgrim,' Snape sneered, 'get on with it.'

Miss Ahlgrim leaned forward. 'Mr Pot- Harry... I'm here to talk to you about Cedric Diggory.'

The nightmares that had plaguing Harry for weeks washed over him like a wave. 'W-what?' He swallowed. 'You, you think I had something to do with-with what happened to Cedric?'

Snape, who had been wandering about the room examining the Dursleys' photographs, glanced sharply at the witch.

'No! Of course not!' She looked shocked he would even think such a thing and gave his hand a quick squeeze. 'I know it was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named who killed Cedric and that He regained His body, but that's all I know. I need you to tell me everything that happened.'

Harry stared at his worn trainers, loathed to repeat the story, especially with Snape present.

'Come now, Potter, I thought you'd be eager to share how you bested the Dark Lord once again.'

Miss Ahlgrim pursed her lips. 'Professor Snape, please bear in mind that I am the one conducting this interview.'

Harry had tried to tell Cornelius Fudge about Voldemort but been rebuffed in no uncertain terms. That Harry was one of the few who knew of the Dark wizard's return frustrated him to no end. Only Sirius's owl warning him not to act rashly prevented him from taking out an advert in the Daily Prophet.

'You're in the Ministry, right?' he asked Miss Ahlgrim.

She nodded. 'I'm- well, I have a pair of ridiculously long titles, suffice it to say I serve on the Wizengamot and am a good friend of your Headmaster.'

'Then that means Fudge- he believes me now?'

'No, no I'm afraid not. You see, Harry, just because the Ministry is a single entity does not mean it is of a single mind.'

'Oh.' That hope dashed, he sat dejected for a moment. 'Where do you want me to start?'

'I always found it helps to start at the beginning,' she said kindly. 'Go as far back as you need, we have plenty of time.'

Snape snorted. 'Speak for yourself, Ahlgrim.'

Harry glowered at Snape before he took a deep breath. 'Well, it started with this really weird dream…' And he told her about the upheaval at the Quidditch World Cup, his name ending up in the Goblet, the dragons, the merpeople, and the maze. He left out the overheard conversations between Snape and Karkaroff, the details of how he obtained the gillyweed, and, most importantly, the fact that he was in regular contact with the escaped prisoner Sirius Black.

At first, he spoke haltingly, stumbling over words- a few times Snape even had to correct him on the proper order of things. When he reached the night of the Third Task he began to hesitate once more. 'And then, out of Voldemort's wand came Cedric's spirit er, ghost I'm not sure what…'

'An echo,' Snape supplied.

'Yeah, an echo, Cedric told me to hold on and, uh,' Harry swallowed, 't-to bring his body back to his parents. I… I think he'd have like me to pass a message along to Cho… but he didn't have the time.'

Miss Ahlgrim leaned forward and held his hands in hers. It reminded him of something Mrs Weasley would have done. 'I'm sure that whatever Cedric wanted to tell Cho…' she paused, selecting her words carefully, 'whatever it was, she already knows.'

Harry wasn't quite sure. He remembered seeing Cho the night of the Leaving Feast; it was clear she had been crying. Harry felt guilty, guilty for liking Cho, for asking her to the Yule Ball. Cedric was much better for her. Cho had liked him so much, maybe even loved him. Harry remembered how the other Gryffindors had made fun of Cedric- sometimes Harry had even joined in. He wished he could somehow take it all back.

'I don't have all day, Potter,' Snape said impatiently, jarring Harry from his thoughts.

'Er… then another-another echo appeared, Bertha Jorkins's.'

Miss Ahlgrim's hands flew to her mouth. 'You… you saw Bertha?' she gasped. 'Are you certain it was her?'

Harry nodded glumly, feeling even more terrible than before.

Rising to her feet, she excused herself quietly, assuring them she would be only a moment and left through the front door.

Which left him and Snape. Harry grabbed his teacup and drained it in one large gulp.

The silence lengthened; Snape drummed his fingers on his crossed arms and Harry studied the dregs of his tea as if he were attempting divination. Harry couldn't bear it any longer, he needed to know whether he made the right choice; Snape was the last person he would want to ask, but he was the only one available. Dumbledore trusted Snape, and for now that would have to do. 'I didn't tell her about the letters Sirius sent me, should I have?'

Snape's eyes flicked over to the door before he drawled, 'I have no idea, Potter, should you have told a member of the Wizengamot that not only were you in regular contact with a mass murderer, but you also met with him in the Headmaster's office, with the Headmaster's blessing?' Snape arched a mocking eyebrow. 'Do you honestly need me to answer that question for you?'

Harry hung his head, feeling magnificently stupid. He tried to defend himself. 'She said she was a good friend of Professor Dumbledore's and she told me to tell her everything, if she found out I fibbed about that, she wouldn't believe _anything_ I said.'

Snape turned his attention to Aunt Petunia's collection of figurines on the mantle. Picking up a porcelain ballerina and turning it over in his hand he said, 'First, she is a politician, not a friend, and second, you have no trouble disregarding whatever _I _tell you to do, so I do not see why you should have any trouble extending her the same consideration. Now, do you still believe you should enlighten her?'

'No...' Harry replied through gritted teeth.

'Acceptable, though "no, _Professor," _or "no, _sir"_ would have been a better answer.'

Harry opened his mouth to give an even _better_ answer when the front door opened and Miss Ahlgrim re-entered. She sat back down on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap. Her eyes were a bit red, but she managed to look composed all the same. 'Please, continue.'

'Er...' Harry tried to remember where he had left off. 'Uh... after that the ghost-echo of a man, the man from my dream. And then my dad and mum.'

_Crash_! The figurine Snape had been inspecting lay scattered at his feet. He repaired it with a wave of his wand and a snarl.

Harry quickly told about his escape, return to Hogwarts, and his confrontation with Crouch, eager to have the tale finally done with.

The witch sat in silence, absorbing everything she had been told. Snape moved behind the couch to stand in front of the window, his face inscrutable. 'Harry,' she said at long last, 'in my line of work I encounter a lot of people who, for a variety of reasons, aren't always completely honest with me, and I have the feeling you are not being entirely forthcoming.'

Behind Miss Ahlgrim, Snape stealthily drew his wand.

Harry looked away quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

'I am not trying to pry, if it was something personal, like you fancying a girl or something of the sort, but I need you to tell me if that is the case.'

'It was,' Harry said quickly, 'I mean, it was a family matter.'

Her eyes searched his intently; he stared back, desperately hoping she believed him.

'All right then.'

He bit back a sigh of relief; Snape slipped his wand back into his robes.

'Now, you said there were some Death Eaters you were able to identify?'

He shifted in his seat. 'Yeah, there was Wormtail... the one who killed Cedric-'

'-And Bertha Jorkins.' She frowned in thought. 'Wormtail... that doesn't sound like any name I've ever heard of, an alias perhaps? Do you remember if he was addressed by any other name?'

Harry knew then he could use this to help Sirius; he was tempted to say "Peter Pettigrew," but Miss Ahlgrim would never believe him. After all, Pettigrew was considered to be a hero. Instead, Harry tried to answer the question as Hermione would. 'No... but Voldemort said he had a... an affinity with rats, that he communicated with them somehow.' Harry sat up in his seat, as if he had remembered something. 'Wormtail had a finger missing- on his right hand!'

Miss Ahlgrim had taken out a roll of parchment and was taking down notes with a Self-Inking quill (Harry had seen Malfoy show off one just like it). 'Excellent. I'll have the Magical Law Enforcement Squad go through St Mungo's records see if they can find anything. Were you able to able to recognise any of the others or hear their names?'

'Er... yeah, there was Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Avery- Voldemort cast the Cruciatus Curse on him- Nott...' Harry watched Miss Ahlgrim's forehead become more and more furrowed with each name he gave, but he suspected the last one would be the worst. 'And Lucius Malfoy.'

A flash of vindication danced across her face before her expression became grim once more. 'So the rumours are true... Lucius Malfoy was a Death Eater all along...'

'So Malfoy will be arrested then?' Harry asked.

She Vanished the tea tray and returned the quill and parchment to her briefcase. 'It is not that easy, I'm afraid.'

'What? Look at his arm! He has the Dark Mark!'

'Of course he does,' she snapped, frustration colouring her voice. 'However, the Wizengamot determined Mr Malfoy was placed under the Imperius Curse and forced to commit a multitude of atrocities, one of which was receiving the Dark Mark. So no, Mr Potter, he cannot be thrown into Azkaban for that!' Miss Ahlgrim sighed deeply, running her hand through her hair. 'You have my deepest thanks, Harry, and if there is anything I can do to help you, all you need to do is ask.'

* * *

That night Harry woke up from his uneasy sleep to a curious noise. He sat up in bed, listening intently. There it was again, a honking sound, almost like a goose. Hedwig's cage had started to smell so he had left his bedroom door ajar, which was the only reason he had heard the noise in the first place. He rolled out of bed, grabbed his wand, and sneaked down the stairs.

The honking noise wasn't the result of any poultry, but rather of a nose being blown. Now he was closer to the source he could also discern sniveling. Making sure he skipped the bottom stair, Harry entered the kitchen and peered around the corner.

Aunt Petunia was sitting at the table, an old photo album spread out in front of her and a balled-up handkerchief in her hand. She wiped her eyes, and turned a yellowed page.

Harry had never seen that particular album before; his mind had its suspicions of what was in the album, but whether he was right or not, he never found out.

Uncle Vernon stomped into the kitchen from the parlour and Aunt Petunia quickly dried her eyes and slammed the album shut spouting a geyser of dust.

'Has the programme ended?' she asked, her voice thick despite her best efforts.

Uncle Vernon grunted in reply, oblivious to his wife's misery.

Harry turned around to sneak back upstairs when he stepped on a creaky stair.

Aunt Petunia's head shot up. 'What are you doing here?' she demanded.

He fumbled for an answer. 'Er... I was getting a glass of water.'

'The tap in the loo works perfectly well for that.' Aunt Petunia's eye were hard, hateful and Harry knew Aunt Petunia knew her moment of weakness had been seen. Not wanting to anger her any further, he ran up the stairs and dove into bed. As he lay in the darkness he promised himself he would find the album.

The next morning Aunt Petunia went to Sainsbury's after his uncle had gone to work, giving Harry a chance to search. But though he rummaged through every room in the house, the photo album was nowhere to be found.


	7. Knockturn Alley

Thanks go to my beta, Bil, and to all the wonderful people who have reviewed. You are all the best!

* * *

Chapter Seven: Knockturn Alley

"_It is a commonplace that the characteristic virtue of Englishmen is their power of sustained practical activity, and their characteristic vice a reluctance to test the quality of that activity by reference to principles." -R. H. Tawney_

* * *

'I am not pleased by this development, Lucius.'

The wizard bowed his head. 'Nor am I, my Lord.'

On this occasion, Severus had been summoned to an abandoned, decrepit building. A thick sheet of dust covered the decaying floorboards, leaving trails of footprints visible as well as the thick, undulating path of Nagini that lead to the corner where Wormtail stood with all the temerity of a spooked horse. A rickety table stood in the centre of the room before the Dark Lord's throne. On this occasion only the Dark Lord, Lucius Malfoy, Wormtail and himself were present. Slivers of moonlight slipped through gaps in the boarded up windows, illuminating the abundance of dust in the air.

'You were meant to run unopposed, save for that imbecile Allgood.' The Dark Lord began to pace. 'What do we know of this witch, Hailey Ahlgrim?'

Lucius paused to formulate his response; Severus seized the opportunity to cut in. 'She is the child of Radulph Ahlgrim and Isabel Bonaccord-'

'A distinguished parentage,' the Dark Lord mused.

'Nothing more than a blood traitor,' Severus returned smoothly.

The Dark Lord inclined His head. 'Nonetheless, there are those who are easily fooled. They see an affluent, pure-blood family and fail to search any deeper, believing any pure-blood would vote for their own interests.' The Dark Lord halted His pacing. 'What of her beliefs? Are half-bloods and Mudbloods likely to find her policies appealing? And why,' He slammed His palm on the table, 'was I not told of her before?'

A muscle in Severus's jaw twitched, his eyes flicked to Lucius, who swallowed. 'My Lord,' he began, 'I had no idea the wench would attempt something so radical.'

'Your family seems to have a persistent weakness where the Bonaccords are concerned,' He snarled, His eyes narrowed to mere slits.

_Is that so?_ Severus had found no indication Lucius and Ahlgrim even had any contact outside of the Ministry. When Ahlgrim met him at Hogwarts' Gates last week she had valiantly attempted conversation with him. He had, of course, made clear in no uncertain terms he had no desire for such a thing. After that she had wisely refrained from further efforts. Now, he wondered if such a move might have been erroneous on his part. He had read up on Ahlgrim and her family in the archives of The _Daily Prophet_, but such sources only provided abstracts and lacked all nuance. Perhaps he should have used the opportunity to discover more about her.

Lucius clenched his fists. 'That fault lay with my father and my father alone.'

'See that it remains as such.'

A high-pitched squeak momentarily diverted Severus's attention to the corner of the room where Wormtail was feeding Nagini. Whether the squeak came from the rat Nagini was eating, or the rat who was feeding her, Severus could only guess.

The Dark Lord watched Wormtail's trembling with a faint twist of His bloodless lips before returning to the matter at hand. 'Who are her allies?'

'Albus Dumbledore and Amelia Bones,' Lucius said quickly, relieved at last to have information to contribute.

Severus, feigning annoyance, snorted. 'Obviously.'

Lucius looked like he desperately wanted to hex him.

'Explain, Severus,' the Dark Lord demanded.

'Dumbledore has been friends with the Ahlgrims for years. When Lucius was...' Severus paused, as if he was choosing his words with great care, '_sacked_ from Hogwarts Board of Governors, Dumbledore immediately approached Radulph Ahlgrim to fill the vacancy. As for Bones, Hailey Ahlgrim worked with her for years, if Ahlgrim became the next Minister, Bones would doubtlessly get preferential treatment in return.'

The Dark Lord inclined His head. 'Very good, Severus, though I wonder why I am not receiving this intelligence from Lucius.'

The normally tall and proud Lucius Malfoy seemed to wilt before their eyes. He said nothing in response.

'I want her defamed, I want her discredited and I want her destroyed! Can I trust that task to you, or should I have Severus campaign against her?' He mocked.

'That shall not be necessary,' Lucius replied through gritted teeth.

The suggestion of simply killing Hailey Ahlgrim need not be voiced. While the general populace was ignorant of the Dark Lord's return, an uneasiness had sprung up among the public following the riot at the Quidditch Cup. A prominent young witch dropping dead of supposedly natural causes would raise cries of foul play, regardless of the lack of evidence, and would doubtlessly reflect poorly on Lucius Malfoy's campaign. In time though, if Lucius failed to best her politically, The Dark Lord might seek more drastic methods. Severus hoped it would not come to that.

'Do not disappoint me, Lucius.' The threat could not have been more clear if He was brandishing His wand.

Lucius bowed his head deferentially. 'I shall not, my Lord.'

The Dark Lord hissed a command in Parseltongue and Nagini slithered over to Him, Wormtail following at what he deemed a safe distance. The snake wound itself around the Dark Lord who grabbed the pusillanimous wizard by the scruff of his robes and Disapparated.

'What the hell are you playing at?' Lucius demanded as he pulled off his mask. 'Are you _trying_ to get me killed?'

Severus removed his mask in suit. 'My allegiance is to the Dark Lord, and to Him alone,' he said smoothly. 'It is no fault of mine if you are afflicted with incompetence.'

Lucius took a step towards him, then reconsidered. 'You forget who you are dealing with, Snape!' he spat, before spinning on his heel and Disapparating.

Snape snorted. _As do you._

* * *

It was nightfall so Knockturn Alley was teeming with figures shrouded in long cloaks and voluminous hoods. Severus pulled his own hood low over his eyes and joined the throng. After informing Albus of his latest meeting with the Dark Lord, Severus had determined it was time to reconnect with his informant in Knockturn Alley.

He passed a hag carrying a tray of what she claimed were bezoars (but were in actuality hairballs from a cat), Borgin & Burkes, and a brawl outside The Grey Jackal before ducking inside Fraudaire's Speciality Goods.

The shop was small, taller than it was wide and crammed with all manner of contraband as well as the sort of articles a thief, cheat, or fraud might need, as they were the shop's primary clientèle. On one shelf were spell books on erecting wards next to books on how to tear them down and volumes upon volumes on jinxes, hexes, curses and poisons. An Invisibility Cloak hung above an aquarium filled with silver spidery instruments that scuttled about. A Seven-Fold-Trunk similar to the one Moody had been imprisoned in sat next to an ice-coated stand of frozen Ashwinder eggs.

Severus glanced at the back counter but the proprietor, Victoria Fraudaire, was nowhere to be seen. He had started to examine a handsome set of quills (all bewitched to replicate the signature of a famous figure, from Celestina Warbeck to Cornelius Fudge) when the back door opened and a crup trotted out, its forked tail wagging excitedly. Severus, who had a strong aversion to canines of any sort, scowled at the creature but all it did was sit on its haunches and watch him.

It had been a number of years since he had last visited the shop and the crup was a new addition though little else in the shop had changed. The sign tacked to the back wall was still there; he wondered if others found it as droll as he.

_'Fraudaire's will not aid or abet those attempting to commit murder. However, we will aid and abet those wishing to commit arson, bewitchment, fraud, robbery, and duplicity of all kinds, as well as aid those wishing to prevent the aforementioned from occurring.' -The Management_

Victoria's mother was from Stepney, while her father was an American immigrant who sold broomsticks, as well as a less than lawful inventory on the side. Though Victoria was born within earshot of the Bow Bells, students at Hogwarts often ridiculed her for her mixed heritage. She had been a year below Severus, but their paths rarely crossed. The only memories he had of her in Hogwarts was of her being crowned the "Queen of Cursing" (a seventh-year Gryffindor had bragged no one could swear like him, Victoria challenged his title and won; unfortunately, Professor McGonagall overheard the winning line) and of her hexing off Black's hair when he spread a salacious rumour concerning her, the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain and the third-floor broom cupboard.

It was not until many years later while on an investigation on Albus's behalf that he happened upon the family shop. When her father had retired, Victoria had quit her job in the Office of Regulation and Disposal of Dark Artifacts and took over the store. Strange as it may be, Victoria Fraudaire was the only classmate that he could bear to tolerate.

The back door opened and Victoria came out, trailed by a rather stout witch. Victoria was tall, rivaling him in height, with long hair in a dull shade of blonde. The revealing red robe she wore would have sent Minerva into an apoplexy. Tattoos of runes and symbols were scattered liberally over her bare arms and a crooked dagger hung from her belt. Severus recognised it from his copy of _Verboten Arts and Objects_ as being exceptionally valuable.

'Two drops in 'is tea, that's all you need,' Fraudaire said, nodding to the phial in the client's hand.

'And then-?'

'You can forget about 'im sneaking off to meet that tart. Your 'usband won't be able to leave 'is bed. No, better than that, 'e'll be _begging _you to cut it off.'

The witch looked positively delighted and peered at the minuscule phial in glee. Severus, having a good idea of its contents, winced and shifted uncomfortably.

'Oh, I simply can't thank you enough!' the witch exclaimed, and after paying Victoria handsomely, hurried out the door, no doubt hoping to whip up a spot of tea before retiring to bed.

'Another satisfied customer, Fraudaire?' he enquired smoothly.

Victoria whipped around, a broad grin spreading across her face. 'Severus!' she cried, running to him and throwing her arms around him in an excited embrace. 'You 'ad me worried, you miserable bastard!'

With a scowl, he disentangled himself and took a step back. He had never given her permission to use his given name, but that was a fact Victoria had either forgotten or ignored; eventually he had grown weary of reminding her. 'If I had known my absence would have caused you such grief, I wouldn't have bothered returning.'

She swatted him on the arm and went to the front door to flip the sign from '_Open_'to '_Closed_'. 'Well, now that we've established you're not 'ere on my account, what can I do for you?'

'I need information.'

The change that came over Victoria was alarming; her face paled, her eyes widened and she glanced about, frightened. 'Not 'ere!' she hissed, grabbing his wrist and attempting to pull him to the back of the store. Severus jerked his hand out of her grasp. 'The walls 'ave eyes and ears, and probably noses as well!' She flung the door open and shoved him into the dim back room and followed, slamming the door behind her.

Severus drew his wand. '_Muffliato_. Have your wards been tampered with?' he demanded.

'No, but I don't want to take the risk.' Her hands twisted themselves in the folds of her indecent robes. 'It's 'orrible. I don't know what to think, I mean not that _I'm_ scared, well I am, but-' She cringed, as if she had said too much.

Resisting the urge to shake the witch, he growled, 'Victoria, what happened?'

Her hands darted to the front of his robes and pulled him uncomfortably close to her. 'It 'appened- The Dark Lord,' she swallowed, ''E-Ooo-Must-Not-Be-Named 'as returned just as I always thought 'E would.'

'I know,' he said heavily.

'You _know_?' she gasped, then shook her head and released her hold on him. 'Of course you know,' she huffed, 'you always were on top of things.'

Severus smoothed the front of his robes with a deep scowl while the witch turned away and busied herself with lighting the sconces on the walls. Their illumination allowed Severus to finally see the room: a rickety table with bubbling cauldrons sat in the centre of the room (Polyjuice Potion, Gregory's Unctuous Unction, and Veritaserum were just a few of the potions being brewed), with excess merchandise on one of the room side and a desk covered with parchments and ledgers on the other.

Pulling a wooden chair away from the desk she spun it around and motioned for him to sit and went to the liquor cabinet in the corner. 'I dunno 'bout you, but I need a drink, what'll you 'ave? Brandy? Ogden's? I know I 'ave some Merlot somewhere,' she muttered pushing aside bottles, wine glasses and cracked tumblers.

'Tea would be satisfactory,' he said, doing his best to inject a modicum of patience in his voice.

'Oh, I forgot, you don't drink,' she snatched the bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey and a glass. 'Tea?' she repeated, a disgusted look on her face, 'I don't 'ave any. Look, I'm as English as the next bloke, God Save the Queen, nation of shopkeepers and whatnot, but tea... tea tastes summffink awful; those Yanks 'ad the right idea bunking it in the 'arbor. Well, sit down why doncha?'

He crossed his arms. 'I prefer to stand.'

She huffed, 'Well beggin' your pardon, sir, for being 'ospitable!' and flopped into the chair, filled her glass, and took a generous swallow.

He smirked, and she rolled her eyes. 'Tory,' he said, 'I want to examine your business records.'

'You want to see them? 'Ow much?'

Raising one solitary eyebrow he asked, 'Do you mean how much I want to see them, or how much I am willing to pay for the privilege?'

'Both.'

'Let's say I have a vested interest in the records. Does thirty Galleons sound reasonable?'

'Fifty-five.'

'Forty.'

Victoria leaned back in her seat, her eyes scanning his. 'Fifty, or thirty if you answer one question.'

He opened his money bag and counted out fifty Galleons.

'Fifty Galleons and you answer my question, or nuffink.' She crossed her arms, satisfied she had him in a corner. 'What will it be, Severus?'

'What is the question?'

She shook her head. 'Nope. No peekin'.'

He glared at her, weighing the options in his mind. Victoria was never one of the Dark Lord's sympathisers; he didn't need her reaction to His rebirth to tell him that. He also knew, all her illegal activity aside, she possessed basic morals. However, he had never heard her declare her support for the Order of the Phoenix or any of the others who aligned themselves against the Dark Order (though it was quite possible this was simply because he had not declared _his_ position and she did not want to run the risk that their thinking was opposed).

Still, he trusted her. In fact, she was one of the select few who had earned the privilege. During the First War he had purchased the very information he was attempting to buy now, as well as hearsay of other activity in Knockturn Alley. Victoria was his best informant; she had never breathed a word of their business with anyone, and that wasn't because he threw in a few extra Galleons to secure her silence. If Victoria wanted to give the game away, she would have taken the money, and without batting an eye, sold the information to the next person who asked. She had done it to others before.

His decision made, he took a deep breath and faced her squarely. 'Tory,' he said, 'I have a proposition for you.'

She batted her eyelashes, a smirk dancing about her lips. 'Oh, Severus,' she gushed, 'I'm flattered.'

He rolled his eyes, a snort of amusement escaping him in spite of himself. 'A _business_ proposition: information in exchange for information.'

'If that's the case, I get... four questions.'

Severus shook his head. 'Absolutely not. You get one.'

'Two.'

He could tell by her mulish expression she was willing to go no lower, and swept his coins back into his money bag. 'Now let me see those damn records.'

She smiled brightly at him and rummaged though the piles on her desk before extracting a large ledger bound by twine and handing it to him.

Flipping past the pages that detailed the gross margin of the previous months he found what he was looking for: Victoria, as a meticulous record keeper, kept track of everything she sold or purchased, from whom, when and for how much. Though as one might expect from a shop that sold many under-the-counter goods, the name was not always provided, and then the space would say something like, 'Witch with one eyebrow' or 'Bloke that looks like Stubby Boardman,' but other than that, the records were remarkably thorough.

Victoria let him read undisturbed, taking the opportunity to finish her glass and pour herself another.

The records also included whether she was bribed to keep the transaction a secret as well as, 'Sleeve length?' Severus stared at the column for a long moment. 'And why,' he asked, already suspecting the answer, 'would you care to know that?'

'_I_ don't. I did it for you.'

It was as if a cauldron-full of icy water cascaded down his back. 'Is that so?' he nonetheless replied smoothly. 'And what need would _I_ have for such a thing?'

Fraudaire set down her drink and brushed past him. She stared out the grimy windows in thought before whirling around, one hand on her hip, the other gesticulating wildly. ''Ave you noticed- remarkable coincidence it is- that everyone with the Dark Mark wears long sleeves? No matter the weather?'

Belatedly, she must have realised what she was insinuating, with the black, voluminous long-sleeved robes he always wore, and laughed. 'Oh, Severus, I'm not talking about _you_!' She laughed again, clearly finding the idea of him being a servant of the Dark Lord quite ludicrous, though her laughter was somewhat higher than usual and she did not quite meet his eyes. 'I mean everyone else- you just dress that way to look like a great big, greasy bat.'

He sneered. 'My personal mode of dress aside, why should I give a damn if your customers are Death Eaters or not?'

Her left arm joined the other on her hip and she stuck out her chin stubbornly. 'I'm not daft, Severus.'

'I hadn't noticed.' To him the retort was as natural as breathing.

Victoria rolled her eyes, 'What I _'ave_ noticed is when 'E-Oo-Must-Not-Be-Named was offed_, _I 'ardly see you around, now 'E's back and suddenly 'ere you are! The people you wanted to know about- were all Death Eaters or in some dark, dark business. What need would a Potions Master like yourself 'ave for all that?' She stepped forward, her blonde hair swinging about her face with the motion, and jabbed her finger into his chest, 'What 'ave you to say to _that_, Master Snape? '

Crossing his arms and hitting her with his most potent glare, he opened his mouth to issue a scathing rejoinder.

She interrupted him by snatching the ledger out of his hands. 'First question!' she crowed. 'Are you, or 'ave you ever been, a part of the Order of the Phoenix?'

Severus had difficulty concealing his surprise. Whatever question he had been expecting of her, that most certainly was not it. Victoria met his eyes undauntedly, giving him the perfect opportunity to peer into her mind. As on the previous occasions, he could detect no malice, no duplicity; though the unidentifiable feeling- a kind of wistfulness he had sensed since they had first met - was again present.

In deliberating how to respond, he came to the realisation he could answer truthfully. The Dark Lord of course knew he was in the Order of the Phoenix, as did the other Death Eaters. By telling her of his connection with the Order she would be able to give him more accurate information, as she would know precisely what intelligence he was seeking. Besides, if she did not like the answer he could always Obliviate her. He was quite adept at Memory Charms.

His decision made, he nodded, 'Yes, yes I am.'

She squealed in delight and made a move to embrace him again (which he forestalled by leveling his wand at her). 'I knew it!'

He arched an eyebrow. 'Is that so?'

'Well, no,' she confessed, 'but I 'ad 'oped.'

'Why?' He could think of no reason for her to care, one way or another.

She looked away, mumbling under her breath.

With a frown, he turned his attention back to the ledger. As he suspected, there was little activity that could be ascribed to the Death Eaters specifically. There was a large spike in the volume of goods being purchased about the time of the Dark Lord's return- while Severus doubted the denizens of Knockturn Alley knew precisely what had happened, it was clear word had spread _something _was amiss.

'I still get one more question, you know.'

'I am waiting with bated breath,' he drawled. Frankly, she had caught him off guard with her first enquire; now, however, he felt prepared.

Victoria was much more reluctant in posing her second question. 'Well, do-_did_ you ever... were you...'

He glared at her over the ledger in a mien familiar to any Hogwarts' student caught after curfew. 'Out with it, Fraudaire.'

'Were you a Death Eater?' she whispered, frightful at being forced to be so direct.

Once again he found himself in the tricky business of duplicity- of taking a strand and spinning it into a web of half-truths and lies. He had, for years, lied to the Dark Lord's face, a feat few, if any, men could claim, lying to a shopkeeper was easy in comparison, yet he still felt the familiar surge of adrenaline.

Severus snorted. 'You are going to waste your question on that?' he asked disdainfully. 'You're not going to ask me whether I'm a vampire or if I have cursed the Defense Against Dark Arts position?'

Fraudaire refused to back down. 'I think it is a rather important question.'

'It would be rather detrimental if I were part of both the Order of the Phoenix and a Death Eater, wouldn't you agree?'

She remained unimpressed with his sarcasm. 'I'm waiting.'

'My, you are certainly persistent in your idiocy. The answer is no.'

Victoria scowled. 'Prove it. Roll up your sleeve.'

He sighed theatrically and tossed the ledger on the desk. Pushing up the sleeve of his robes and unbuttoning the cuff of the shirtsleeve underneath, he drawled, 'I hate to disappoint you, Victoria, but this is going to be rather anti-climatic.' He then rolled up his right sleeve.

Four long, jagged scars ran from his elbow to his wrist, but there was no Dark Mark on the pale skin of his forearm.

'But-but... I thought-' Victoria blinked at him in befuddlement for a moment before she snatched her bottle and drained it in a well-practiced motion.

Severus deftly buttoned his cuff and withdrew a slip of parchment from his robes which he placed on her cluttered desk. 'If any of the individuals on that list buy or sell anything I am to be informed immediately.'

And with that he swept out of the storeroom, leaving her sputtering in his wake. As he shut the door he allowed a wide smirk to spread across his face. That had worked out far better than he had expected. He sidestepped the crup-

_Crack! _Fraudaire had Apparated before the front door, her expression one of unmitigated triumph. 'Nice try, Severus. Let's do this properly shall we, with the right arm, that is the left.'

When he made no move to comply, Fraudaire nodded in satisfaction. 'So, that makes you a rather sorry Order member, donnit?'

He expected her to press him, demand to know whether he was a spy or a turncoat, but for once she managed to hold her curiosity in check.

'We 'ave a saying 'ere, in Knockturn Alley,' she said slowly, "when times are good, business is bad and when times are bad, business is good.'" Victoria's proverbs were more often than not her own creation, but that did not make them any less true.

'And how is business?' he asked.

Victoria smiled bravely, but the worry in her eyes still shone through. 'Business is the best it 'as ever been.'


	8. An Echo of a Nightmare

Thanks, as always, go out to my beta, Bil, and the wonderful people who have read and reviewed. Your comments are uplifting, enlightening, and a real inspiration!

* * *

Chapter Eight: An Echo of a Nightmare

_'All around me children, wounded and bleeding, were calling for their fathers and their mothers, brothers and sisters- but oh so many of their cries went unanswered. The Death Eaters were gone, but the screams continued as families realised the horror of what had occurred. I did what I could to help, cast all the healing spells I knew... While searching for survivors I found a little girl huddled under the train, I handed her to an Auror who looked just as shocked, just as lost as everyone else. I realised then our world was changed irrevocably.' -a reporter for _The Daily Prophet_ describing the aftermath of the Kings Cross Massacre, from _The Daily Prophet_ archives._

* * *

The delectable aroma of warm buttermilk scones wafted from Hailey's take-away bag, eliciting an audible growl from her stomach. Sheepishly, Hailey glanced around but the dingy street was empty.

Working through breakfast and lunch had seemed like a good idea at the time, but after being visibly distracted while on the Floo with Dale Entwhistle, the Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Clark had pointed out a break wouldn't hurt and would probably do her a world of good ('Miss Ruggles and I can hold down the fort- you can even go to that Muggle place down the street you love so much').

It was Bertha Jorkins who had introduced her to the corner bistro and now whenever Hailey went to Prinny's she could not help but feel a pang of sadness. Hailey admittedly had not known Bertha Jorkins all that well. They had worked together organising the Triwizard Tournament; Bertha gave reports to Hailey, and Hailey shared the reports with Minister Oblansk and Felix Bonaccord, the Mugwumps of Bulgaria and France respectively, to ensure all three countries were in agreement. This lead to Hailey and Bertha eating dinner together when the work ran late or they wanted to express the frustrations that went hand-in-hand with the organisation of such an event.

When the conversations turned personal, Bertha, a Muggle-born, told Hailey what it was like growing up with the idea magic was something only found in story books. A couple of days before she left for her vacation to Albania, Bertha got it in her in head that she and Hailey should head down to a Muggle place down the street for lunch. Hailey objected, but Bertha managed to persuade her ('If you take off your pointed hat, your robes will blend in well enough, though you won't look too fashionable') and she had a marvelous time.

Hailey smiled sadly at the memory. As she made her way back to the visitor's entrance to the Ministry, her mind turned to her new campaign manager. When Hailey informed Clark of her candidature, he had written to Alice Ruggles straight away, saying she was 'exactly who we need.' Hailey trusted Clark implicitly; however even she was sceptical at the first meeting.

Alice Ruggles couldn't have been a day over twenty-five (unless she was drinking Beautifying Potions by the cauldronful), wore her hair in a radical style Hailey recognised from the cover of _Magical Hairdos and Don'ts_ and was dressed in a bizarre assortment of Muggle clothing that even Hailey knew was far from accurate. Yet, the witch quickly proved herself to be an outstanding speech writer and a public relations genius. She was extremely well-connected and it seemed everyone owed her a favour. Alice Ruggles did not believe Voldemort had resurrected, but flatly told Hailey that it didn't matter ('You're the candidate, I'm merely your campaign manager').

Suddenly a black cat streaked out from behind a rubbish bin and across Hailey's path. Casting her eyes about for the source of the disturbance, Hailey felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as she was gripped by the overwhelming sense something was dreadfully wrong. She dropped the take-away bag and pulled out her wand, her breath coming in short gasps.

But there was no one, just the rubbish bin and the telephone booth that led into the Ministry. Hailey sighed in relief. _No one's there. With all this worry about You-Know-Who, it's a wonder any of us can keep our heads on straight, _she thought bending down to retrieve her take-away bag. _Now_ _the scones will probably be squished-_

And a red streak of light flew over her head.

Screaming, she whirled around in time to see a flurry of black robes- a wand pointed at her- then, blackness.

* * *

The arrival of one Harry Potter at number twelve, Grimmauld Place put Black into an ebullient mood and Severus into a corresponding foul one. Two days after his fifteenth birthday, Potter was attacked by dementors and while he had managed to fend them off the use of magic resulted in Potter being threatened with expulsion.

On any other occasion Severus would have been overjoyed with the opportunity to no longer suffer the presence of James Potter's son at Hogwarts, but under the present circumstances expelling Potter would have been synonymous to handing him over to the Dark Lord and Severus had grudgingly agreed the boy should be moved to Grimmauld Place without delay.

A position he was now regretting.

Throwing aside the revised edition of _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi _he had been perusing, he paced about the dimly-lit kitchen. In the adjacent room he could hear Weasley and Potter in hysterics over the latest of Black's exaggerated tales of his youth.

Potter's encounter with the dementors was troubling in a multitude of ways. Severus had no intelligence, no inkling the Dark Lord was planning such an attempt. If He was behind it, and had not informed one of His most trusted servants, Severus's role of a spy was in serious jeopardy. But if it was the work of someone in the Ministry, as the Headmaster believed, it made him wonder who and why. If someone in the Ministry had it in for Potter there was no guarantee the boy's disciplinary hearing would be conducted judiciously... not to mention the possibility that the dementors were part of some convoluted plot to ensure Potter was expelled. At this point nothing could be ruled out.

And if that was not enough, Severus was forced to spend much of his time at Grimmauld Place. It was oppressive, like sleeping under a lethifold, and he was just waiting for it to smother him. Everywhere were palpable reminders of all the memories he strove so hard to avoid and even if he was fortunate enough to escape them during his waking hours they were lying in wait to ambush him while he slept. In his dreams he followed a solitary pair of dusty footprints up an old, decrepit staircase to a door hanging ajar, he swung open the door and then- shouting and fighting- a flash of green light.

And then he would awaken, his heart hammering and drowning in guilt so overwhelming it felt like a sin even to breathe.

Severus halted his pacing and cast his eyes about the room, seeking a distraction. His eyes fell on a discarded copy of that morning's_ Daily Prophet_ lying on the middle of the table; the rag had been devoting equal ink to both Lucius Malfoy and Hailey Ahlgrim, presumably because it was unclear yet who would be most profitable for the newspaper's interests. The front page reported on both a speech given by Malfoy and a charity, some sort of hospital, Ahlgrim had founded. _Probably the type of hospital that would give Ahlgrim plenty of opportunities to have her picture taken surrounded by sick little dunderheads and appear compassionate. _The media fell for the trick every time. _Idiots._

Albus held Ahlgrim in high esteem and firmly believed she would make an excellent Minister for Magic, that she would be good for the cause. Severus agreed she could be useful, especially with her promise to aid Potter, but to Severus that didn't mean much. Even flobberworms had their uses.

Just then there was a startled shriek from the next room, followed by a loud _pop_. Cursing, he stalked into the room. If_ another one of the Weasley twin's infernal gadgets has gone off-_

Severus stopped short.

Moody, who had Flooed into the room (Grimmauld Place was warded against Apparition), was holding a limp body by the scruff of the robes. In her fright, Granger had upturned an inkwell over what was undoubtedly a verbose and discursive essay while Black, who had transformed at the sight of a stranger in Grimmauld Place, cowered behind the couch.

Though the room was sparsely lit and the witch's face was obscured by a curtain of hair, Severus knew precisely who it was. 'What the hell did you do, Moody?' he snarled, stepping forward.

'She's only Stunned,' Moody said, dropping Ahlgrim carelessly to the floor. He looked pleased with himself, a hunter returning triumphantly home with a kill.

'I should have known this errand would have been beyond the scope of your ability,' Severus said cuttingly.

He had first reluctantly approached Shacklebolt to escort Ahlgrim to Order Headquarters. Shacklebolt had refused, saying he wasn't going to give those at the Ministry reason to be suspicious. The Headmaster suggested he appoint Moody to the task. When Severus had passed along the order, Moody had been less than pleased, revolted in fact, at having to take orders from a Death Eater.

Severus should have known Moody would retaliate, but that he did so against an unrelated third party was a cowardly move that made Severus grit his teeth.

He pointed his wand at Ahlgrim. '_Rennervate._'

She groaned into the worn carpet, then froze as memory returned to her.

'Constant vigilance, lass,' Moody growled. 'If I were a Death Eater you'd be dead now.'

Ahlgrim raised her head and looked about the room in confusion. 'Mr Moody?' she question blearily, spotting him.

Moody braced himself against the mantle and leaned forward, his arm extended. Ahlgrim refused his offer of assistance and climbed to her feet, peering at the wizard suspiciously.

'Mr Moody,' she said, trembling with the effort to keep the reins on her temper, 'if you have an explanation, any explanation at all for spiriting me away without so much as a by-your-leave, I shall like to hear it. _Now_.'

Moody jerked his head in Severus's direction. 'He asked me to fetch you.'

'Fetch me? _Fetch me_?' she repeated shrilly, rounding on him. Severus, who had never had an occasion to see her angered, was surprised by how well she wore her righteous indignation. 'You asked him to-to _abduct_ me? I thought he was a Death Eater! I thought-' Abruptly her anger fled, leaving her face pale. She crossed her arms and turned away.

Severus sneered. 'My orders to Moody were for him to _escort_ you here. I believed it would be less suspicious for you to be in the company of an ex-Auror than myself. With Fudge's edict in place I did not wish to give your colleagues something to gossip about.'

Her eyes searched his for a moment, then she turned to Moody. 'You,' she said, her voice hard, 'are a disgrace. You could be thrown in Azkaban for a stunt like this! Aurors are given great power, but power to aid those less capable, not to,' she gestured vaguely as she searched for the right words, 'use for personal gain or amusement; you may no longer be an Auror, but the basic rules of decency still apply!'

Ahlgrim's speech, vehement as it was, did not make any impression on Moody. Seeing this, Ahlgrim spat, 'I ought to transfigure you into a slug!'

Severus sincerely hoped she would, but to his disappointment she merely took several deep breaths to calm herself down. To distract herself, she began to look about the room. 'What is this place?' she asked.

'Can't tell you that,' Moody said gruffly.

She scowled. 'I feel I deserve to know where I am at least.'

Severus was enraged over Moody's idiocy, and then his attempts to pin said idiocy on himself. So, keeping his eyes on Moody, he said, 'You are standing in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix.' Moody's real eye narrowed, his magical one spinning toward Snape, while Ahlgrim took in her surroundings with new appreciation.

'Snape,' Moody growled, 'the nature of this place is not to be bandied-'

'Quiet, Moody,' Ahlgrim ordered firmly, 'At this moment you are hardly one to lecture on unbecoming conduct.' Ahlgrim glanced at the children sitting on the couch. 'Why did you want me here, Professor?'

'Your offer of assistance to Potter, you have not rescinded it?'

She frowned. 'Of course not, I gave my word.'

'Potter broke the Statute of Secrecy,' Severus explained, 'and the Ministry is now threatening to expel him from Hogwarts and confiscate his wand.'

'I only used it because of the dementors!' Potter exclaimed, bursting out of his seat.

Though she tried, Ahlgrim was unable to completely conceal her surprise. 'And you want me to make all of this go away?' she asked, incredulous.

Weasley nodded emphatically.

'Surely a witch in your position wouldn't be completely useless in that regard?'

Ahlgrim gave him a wry smile. 'Is that an attempt of flattery, Professor?' she ignored his sneer. 'I shall do what I can.' She cleared her throat. 'Mipsy!'

With a _pop_ a house-elf appeared. Bowing low, she asked in a squeaky voice, 'What does Miss be wanting?'

Ahlgrim crouched before the creature. 'Mipsy, I need you to go to my office at the Ministry and inform Mr Brown I have been detained and that my meeting with Mr Laukkanen will have to be rescheduled. Also I need you to grab the briefcase off the top of my desk; I did not have time to fetch it before I was abducted.' Ahlgrim cast a sidelong glare toward Moody.

The house-elf noticed and, tugging on one long, bat-like ear asked, 'Does Miss wish for Mipsy to beats the bad wizard with a skillet?'

Ahlgrim shook her head. 'That shall not be necessary.'

'As you says.' The elf bowed and disappeared.

On the couch, Granger's lips were pressed into a thin line. It reminded him sharply of Minerva. Severus supposed she was still into that SPEW thing Draco had told him about.

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. 'Potter, explain to Ahlgrim how you got yourself into this predicament.' And then swept out of the room to make himself a cup of strong tea.

* * *

When Severus returned, Moody had left, a fact for which he was grateful. It was best to handle one bane of his existence at a time.

'The dementors,' Ahlgrim asked, riffling through her briefcase, 'did they appear to attack you or your cousin first?'

Potter was visibly thrown by the question. 'Er... there was one at each end of the alley...'

'So you were standing between one of the dementors and your cousin...'

Potter nodded. 'Dudley ran straight into the other one.'

'Who cares who the dementors attacked first?' Weasley asked, 'What difference does it make?'

Ahlgrim pinched the bridge of her nose. 'It is doubtful the dementors were sent after Harry at all.'

'_What_?' the students chorused.

'Oh, they were meant to hurt Harry, no doubt about that,' she said darkly. 'You see, Azkaban keeps meticulous records of each dementor, so if someone drew up paperwork for dementors to apprehend Harry Potter it would have raised far too much notice; no one would have signed off on it. But if the order was for the dementors to apprehend Dudley Dursley, and Kiss him if he ran, or anyone who attempted to aid the "fugitive" in his escape...' She shook her head.

It was all so hideously simple.

Severus leaned against the mantle. 'And the possibility the dementors received their orders from someone other than the Ministry?'

Ahlgrim's eyes flashed. 'There are no dementors outside of the Ministry's control!' she said forcefully. Taking a deep breath she continued, 'Dementors are dreadful creatures, among the very worst. When I am near them I hear terrible, terrible things...' She looked away. 'But they have their uses, and ever since the dementors bound themselves to Azkaban they have remained loyal to us. During the War, not one, not a single one, strayed. The dementors are the only thing keeping some of Britain's darkest wizards and witches in Azkaban.

'The records we need are kept at the prison; if you leave the Floo open, I can grab the records, and then return here without having to name the destination,' Ahlgrim suggested, though she looked anxious with the idea of going to Azkaban.

After Severus had met Ahlgrim, he had done some reading up on the family, mostly from the archives of The _Daily Prophet_. It was there he learned, while reading through old issues yellowed with age, that not only were Hailey Ahlgrim's mother and brother killed in the King's Cross Massacre, Hailey Ahlgrim had been present for the attack. It did not take a Seer to know what Ahlgrim heard each time a dementor drew near.

'They allow anyone in the Ministry to just waltz into Azkaban?' he asked scornfully.

'As a member of the Wizengamot, I am fully authorised,' she replied coolly. 'And since I am capable of producing a corporeal Patronus I do not require an escort.' Seeing his raised eyebrow, Ahlgrim raised her wand. '_Expecto Patronum_!' A silvery eagle flew from the end of Ahlgrim's wand. The Patronus soared to the ceiling with the usual avian grace, its ghostly form casting flickering light along the walls, until Ahlgrim waved her wand and the bird dissolved.

Ahlgrim took a pinch of Floo powder from her pocket and threw it into the fire which flared bright green, though she did not step into the hearth. Severus arched his eyebrow in silent query. Though she may not be _required_ an escort, he was certain one would be helpful.

She shook her head. 'It must be done.' Moving quickly, as though she wished to proceed before her courage deserted her, she stepped into the flames, named her destination, and vanished.

The parlour descended into silence. The students were loath to speak in Severus's presence and Black was unable to speak at all. Black glanced at Potter, who patted him on the head. The ancient grandfather clock in the adjacent room rang dolefully, informing them all it was three o' clock.

The minutes ticked by; Weasley had just began to fidget uncomfortably when the fire burned green once more and Ahlgrim stumbled out of the flames. Her wand fell from her trembling fingers and landed on the stone hearth with a clatter. She mumbled incoherently before her eyes rolled up to the back of her head and she pitched forward.

Reacting quickly, Severus threw out his arm and managed to catch her before she hit the floor. Her hair fell over his arm, he could feel it even through his thick robes. While her weight wasn't cumbersome, it made him uncomfortable for reasons he could not identify.

'A little help would be appreciated, Black,' Severus drawled. Being slender Ahlgrim was easily supported, but Severus knew after a dementor encounter it was best not to jostle the victim. Still Black remained stubbornly in his Animagus form, even going so far as to look the other way as if Severus were addressing someone else.

Granger shoved Weasley. 'Ron!' she hissed, 'Go help Professor Snape!'

Weasley was about ready to protest, but then caught sight of Granger's face. He shuffled forward uneasily. 'What's wrong with her?'

Granger, who could not resist the compulsion to answer any question posed in her general vicinity, began in her most know-it-all voice, 'She is-'

'Suffering from dementor exposure.' Severus finished with a glare. 'Which is no surprise given- grab her feet Weasley- the sheer number of dementors in Azkaban.'

Weasley bumped her feet against the armrest and Ahlgrim let out an obnoxiously pitiful groan. He glared at Weasley, who mumbled, 'Sorry.' Ahlgrim began to struggle weakly and continued to twitch and mumble after she was placed on the couch.

Dementor exposure this severe needed prompt attention unless he wanted to run the risk of Ahlgrim suffering from chronic melancholy or depression. Severus grabbed Black by the scruff of the neck and dragged him into the kitchen.

'Open the liquor cabinet.' he ordered, releasing Black and hurriedly preparing a cup of hot chocolate. (Ever since Fletcher started coming to Grimmauld Place Black kept anything stronger than cooking sherry under wand and key.)

Black reverted to his usual form and tapped the liquor cabinet with his wand. To Severus's surprise, Black did so with out so much as a caustic remark. Severus set the steaming goblet of hot chocolate on the table and reached into his pocket to withdraw a small pouch. Severus always carried an assortment of potions with him, everything from Veritaserum to Blood-Replenishing Potion, for situations such as this. He added half a phial of Pepperup Potion to the hot chocolate. He didn't have a stirring rod; a spoon would have to do.

The liquor cabinet was exceedingly well stocked: there were bottles of fine wines, rums, ports, scotches and brandies. Pushing aside the bottles of cheap swill that Black drank regularly, Severus purposely snatched the oldest, most-expensive bottle of liquor he could find: a bottle of port with a yellowed label in Portuguese and a date of 1809. Ignoring Black's outrage, Severus popped the cork and poured a liberal amount into the goblet. Hot chocolate, Pepperup Potion and a splash of alcohol was an old home remedy against dementor exposure, colloquially known as 'Fire water'.

Severus grabbed the mixture and strode back into the parlour; Black followed once again in his Animagus form.

Granger was in the middle of a lecture. 'A dementor is born when a lethifold swallows a person. It uses the victim's body to become corporeal, but is left without a soul or any happy memories at all. That's why dementors try to drain the happiness, or even the souls of those around them- they're trying to fill the void. The book goes on to say-' She was speaking rapidly, trying to distract herself from the ashen witch lying on the couch. When she saw Severus, she clamped her mouth shut with an audible _click_.

He stalked toward the couch and looked down at Ahlgrim. Her eyes were moving restlessly under her eyelids and she twitched spasmodically, as though plagued with a high fever. Leaning over, he pinched her nose shut. She struggled for a moment, tossing her head to and fro, eventually opening her mouth with a gasp. Severus poured the mixture down her throat and forced her mouth shut.

Ahlgrim coughed and sputtered and continued to cough as she came to. 'Wh-what...?' After a minute's struggle, she managed to prop herself on her elbows and looked about the room with unfocused eyes.

'Drink this.' He shoved the half-empty goblet under her nose.

She held it loosely and stared into its depths with haunted eyes. Taking a deep breath she downed the drink without complaint, though she made a disgusted face.

Ahlgrim refused to meet his eyes, instead she stared at the floor, lost in her ruminations. Eventually, she became aware of the eyes on her and regained her composure. She removed a scroll from her robes, broke the wax seal and unfurled it on the low table in front of her, the students peering over her shoulder. Ahlgrim donned a pair of spectacles she retrieved from a pocket and scanned the document. She cleared her throat and said thickly, 'My suspicions were indeed correct; on the second of August an order was drawn up ordering two dementors to arrest Dudley Dursley, a wizard believed to be responsible for a string of murders down in Kent, and Kiss him if he attempted to flee or Kiss anyone who sought to prevent the dementors from carrying out the task.'

'Who signed the order?' Severus demanded.

Ahlgrim's fingers trailed down the document. There was a beat of silence, then the students glared at Ahlgrim accusingly, who stared at the parchment unbelievingly. 'That's... that's not my handwriting.'

At the bottom of the scroll, in tidy script, was Ahlgrim's signature.

'They forged my signature!' Ahlgrim was incredulous. 'I don't believe it!'

'Now we have seen the darkest of human hearts,' he drawled sardonically, 'not only that a person would dare attempt to rob a boy of his soul, but that the same individual would have the audacity, the malevolency to forge a bureaucrat's signature to do so.' Ahlgrim turned a deaf ear to his comment, which was unfortunate for he had been hoping for her to look at him so he would have the opportunity to peer into her mind and discern whether her astonishment was feigned or genuine.

He searched his mind for a spell or potion that would be applicable to the situation, but came up empty. Severus found it unlikely Ahlgrim would suggest retriving the documents from Azkaban if she was the one who signed it in the first place. Either way, it was imperative he find out who signed the document. He was about to ask Ahlgrim which Ministry workers would be authorised to visit Azkaban when it occurred to him that Fraudaire's Speciality Goods might sell something that would be of use in this instance. Fraudaire sold quills designed to replicate the signatures of famous wizards and witches; it was not that far of a stretch to suppose she sold a device able to detect forgeries, or gave some indication of who signed the document.

A decision made, Severus informed them he would return momentarily, and stalked out of the room before any of them could protest.

Once outside Grimmauld Place, Severus ducked behind a clump of hedges to Disapparate. It was mid-afternoon, however Knockturn Alley was noticeably more crowded than usual. When he reached Fraudaire's Specialty Goods he was unable to converse with Fraudaire, as she was preoccupied with her customers. After handing a goblin a small, metal tool he quickly shoved into his pocket, Severus managed to catch her eye and she hurried over.

'Good afternoon, sir,' Victoria said formally, conscious of the others milling about. 'What'd you need?'

In a low voice, Severus explained his need for a device that would be able to detect forgeries in a document.

'I can do you one better,' she said with a smirk. She went to a nearby shelf where she picked up a delicate quill-shaped piece of glass full of what appeared to be ink. 'That's an Ink Identifier,' she said, handing it to him, 'It'll tell you who signed it. Just place the tip on the signature- that's all there is to it.'

He followed her to the front counter where she rang the item up on her cash register. 'How much?' he asked.

'Seventeen Galleons, six Sickles and twelve Knuts,' Victoria said.

He glared at her. 'I could get it at Borgin & Burkes for fifteen Galleons.' That was a lie, of course, but Severus was rather irked that he was being forced to pay out of pocket for things, especially when he had given her forty Galleons a week ago for some Tentacula seeds. However, the hag standing behind him was eavesdropping, and was now looking at her purchase (a bottle of Paralysing Potion), clearly having second thoughts.

Fraudaire saw this too, and scowled. 'Alright, alright, 'ow's fourteen Galleons even?'

Severus smirked and pulled out his money bag.

He was able to get back inside Grimmauld Place without setting off any of the portraits. In the parlour, Ahlgrim was hunched over the low table and scribbling on a scroll with a large, plum-coloured quill. '...On behalf of the Wizengamot,' she read aloud as she wrote, 'I, Hailey Altheda Ahlgrim, acting as Interrogator, rule that the accused, Harry James Potter, is not guilty of violating the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute in performing a Patronus Charm, and in performing said charm in the presence of a Muggle and in a Muggle-inhabited area, having acted within the bounds of the Decree of Reasonable Restriction of Underaged Sorcery Clause Seven, paragraph nine...' Her quill continued to scratch along the parchment for several minutes, while the smiles on the students' faces grew wider. Ahlgrim signed her name with a flourish, rolled up the scroll and placed it in her briefcase. Still, she appeared troubled. 'Now, if we could only find out who sent the dementors after Harry in the first place...'

'We can,' Severus said tersely, unrolling the scroll Ahlgrim had gotten from Azkaban. He placed the tip of the Ink Identifier on the forged signature. The ink from the signature was sucked into the glass quill. For a second, nothing happened, then ink began to spew out of the tip. The ink crawled like liquid caterpillars, quickly forming what Severus recognised as fingers grasping the quill. The ink began to collect, forming a fat hand and wrist, which extended to an arm, then a shoulder; Ahlgrim stood and circled around the rapidly forming statue, her arms crossed and forehead creased in concentration. Another thick arm grew from the opposite shoulder with what appeared to be large rings on the hand's fingers. The legs and body quickly followed, revealing that the perpetrator was a rather squat individual. Then the neck and face began to appear.

'She looks like a toad.' Weasley said loudly, looking at the now completed statue.

Ahlgrim sucked in her breath.

Severus looked at her sharply. 'You recognise her?'

Ahlgrim's hands were clenched, her face a mask of fury. 'I do.' Her voice was clipped, betraying only a hint of her simmering rage.

Abruptly, Ahlgrim snatched her briefcase, reached into her robes and threw a handful of Floo powder into the fire.

'Where are you off to?' Severus demanded.

She glanced over her shoulder, her brown eyes hard. 'To have a little chat with the Minister.' And she disappeared into the flames.


	9. Mayhem in the Ministry

I'd like to extend a warm thank-you to my wonderful beta, Bil, without his support this story would not exist.

* * *

Chapter Nine: Mayhem in the Ministry

_'During times of universal deceit, telling the truth becomes a revolutionary act.' -George Orwell_

* * *

Hailey stepped out of the Floo in the Ministry Atrium, wrestling with the overwhelming desire to hex Cornelius Fudge. For years she had thought the man to be an annoyance, had frowned to herself when he made an uncharitable comment about a muggle-born or a Squib, but at the same time had managed to disregard most of it. _He may not be the best Minister we have had, _she had thought, _but at the very least he is not the worst._

Now she was not so sure. Her opinion of the Minister had changed over the years, especially with his behaviour as of late. By refusing to even entertain the notion that Voldemort had returned he was endangering the lives of those he had sworn to protect. He was behaving injudiciously, unwilling or unable to consider the consequences of his actions.

Having neither the patience to wait for the lift nor endure the trepidatious silence of those on it, Hailey marched up the stairs to the fifth floor to the Minister's office; she hoped Fudge was there and not at his residence at Upping Street.

Dolores Umbridge may have been the one who signed the order, but Hailey did not believe for a second that Cornelius Fudge was uninvolved. He was, after all, responsible for appointing Umbridge to head the Committee for the Assurance of Ethics and Accountability of Ministry Employees: the three-person committee responsible for receiving the complaints on those who supposedly broke Fudge's edict and then firing the employee in question (after allegedly reviewing the evidence, of course). Not to mention that Harry Potter's silence would have benefited him most of all.

Hailey flung open the door to the Department of International Magical Cooperation and, storming past Fudge's secretary, barged into Cornelius's office.

A young girl, her arms full of scrolls and files and envelopes, started at the intrusion and dropped the tea she was handing the Minister. Fudge leapt to his feet with a curse and Hailey felt a stab of vindictive pleasure to see that much of the hot tea had wound up in his lap. The girl Hailey belatedly recognised as Phoebe, a timid Squib who acted as an errand runner. 'Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry!' Phoebe dropped her armload and took out her handkerchief. 'I'm-I'm _so_ sorry sir-' she stammered.

'Shut up, Squib!' Fudge swore again, this time at her, and took out his wand to spell away the mess. 'You're completely useless-can't even fetch a cup of tea!'

Eyes filling with tears, Phoebe crouched down and haphazardly retrieved the scattered documents and made to flee the office, but the mountain of files fell to the ground again. Hailey knelt on the floor and helped Phoebe regather the load. Phoebe looked up in surprise, her tears causing her eye make-up to run in black streaks down her face. Hailey hoped her own eyes conveyed the sympathy she could not find the words to say. Phoebe dragged her sleeve across her face, smearing the make-up further, and managed a wan, watery smile. The girl glanced back over her shoulder at Fudge, her eyes flinty over the regathered stack of parchments; she shouldered the door open and hurried out, kicking it shut behind her.

Hailey had lost her grand entrance but not an ounce of her ire, if anything it had intensified at seeing the awful treatment of the poor girl.

Fudge puffed himself up. 'You cannot just storm into my office and-'

Hailey flung open her briefcase and slammed the scroll from Azkaban on his desk. 'How _dare_ you try and pin this on me?'

Fudge glanced from her, to the scroll, back to her again. He swallowed. Hailey could read the guilt on his face, confirming he was as implicit in the plot as she had suspected. That did not stop him from attempting to deny it, however. 'I-I don't know what you're-'

'Your Senior Undersecretary, Fudge! The sycophant you appointed to head that joke of a committee- she signed an order that could have removed the soul of two innocent boys! Do you expect me to believe you knew nothing of this? Do you truly think I am that daft?'

Fudge bristled, both at the accusation and the uncharacteristically harsh tone in which she delivered it. 'Enough!" he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. 'I will not be spoken to in that way! Not by a-'

'A what, Cornelius?" she snapped. 'I'm not a Squib, a Muggle, a half-blood, a muggle-born, a werewolf or a vampire! By all accounts you should have no complaint with me!'

'My complaint with you, Miss Ahlgrim,' the Minister began in an icy voice, leaving Hailey to wonder where the bumbling, affable public servant had gone, 'is that you are far too naive! You believe the darkness in this world can be cured by sufficient legislation. That if you simply follow the law and live righteously no harm may befall you, because after all, everyone does the right thing, right?' He laughed hollowly. 'You don't realise that people act as they do not because they are bound by any sort of moral code, but because they are bound by their own self-interests. You don't understand that the ends can justify the means and that sometimes the suffering of a minority is permissible for the welfare of the majority.'

As Hailey looked into Fudge's wild, desperate eyes she realised that Fudge was in this far, far deeper than she had ever imagined. Her hands flew to her mouth. 'You _know_,' she gasped in a terrified whisper. 'You know they're not just rumours... you know it's the truth.' She swallowed. 'You know He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned.'

It all tumbled into place: his edict, his determined attempts to discredit Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, his impassioned denials that anything was amiss... Fudge was merely buying his time until the election, hiding the truth of Voldemort's resurrection until it would no longer be his obligation. Hailey did not believe he was in league with Voldemort, but his actions had aided Him all the same. She felt as if she had taken a Bludger to the gut; she could not comprehend how anyone could rationalise such a course of action. Fear she could understand, on occasion she still had nightmares of the Massacre, of wizards in black robes and blank, silver masks, but what Fudge had done, what he had willingly blinded himself to simply because it was more convenient... it may have doomed them all.

Fudge was stark white and shaking, beads of sweat popping up on his forehead. He was in abject terror, but Hailey did not feel an ounce of pity. Only anger and the acute sense of having been betrayed. '"The welfare of the majority?"' she spat. 'Is that what you call it? You think that lying about His return will actually _benefit_ anyone? Other than the Him and His Death Eaters?'

The Minister was silent for a full minute. Then he licked his dry lips and said, 'I believe I said that anyone who spoke of You-Know-Who's so-called return would be immediately removed from the Ministry.'

Hailey's heart nearly stopped in her chest. This was not happening. Not now, not on top of everything else. But Fudge's cold eyes told her that it was. It was a seldom occurrence for Hailey to let her temper get away from her, but now that she had, in front of the Minister no less, she should have known she would pay for it in spades. With out another word, Hailey fled from the office (she barely remembered to grab the scroll from Azkaban along with her briefcase) and, ignoring all the stares she received, ran until she made it into an empty lift. After hitting the button for level two several times with her fist, Hailey leaned against the back of the lift. Running her hand over her face, she fought the urges to scream, curse or cry, or some combination thereof. She had bungled things so fantastically she should end up on a Famous Wizard card for it. What had she been thinking in confronting Fudge? What could she have possibly gained? She should have kept her head down and given the evidence to Rufus Scrimgeour, the head of the Auror Office, and had him investigate the matter. Hailey took a deep, shuddering breath. Now was not the time for self-recriminations; what was done was done. She needed to think. Closing her eyes, Hailey made an effort to clear her mind.

Instead she was met with the smell of filth and decay, the sounds of moans and shrieks as her mind took her back to that afternoon's visit to Azkaban Fortress. Hailey had never visit Azkaban before, and found that it was far more vile, dark and despairing then her most frightful imaginings. The dementors were all around her... and the light of her Patronus seemed so faint...

The jolt of the lift as it stopped wrenched her back to the present. 'Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services.' Hailey stepped out of the lift and hurried down the hall and through the door marked 'Wizengamot Administration Services.' She would miss this place, miss it terribly.

Melissa the receptionist was seated at her desk near the door. She smiled in greeting and wordlessly handed her a stack of scrolls and envelopes. Melissa's smile faded as she noticed Hailey's distress. Glancing about to ensure they were alone, Melissa whispered, "Are you okay? You look ill."

Hailey accepted the pile without a word and set out through the rows of desks where wizards and witches were immersed in their work. Around the perimeter of the room were doors leading to the offices of each one of the fifty Wizengamot Elders.

She stopped in front of her door, arrested by the gold lettering wrought upon the dark wood.

_Hailey Ahlgrim_

_Wizengamot Elder_

_Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards_

The addition of 'Supreme' to her title had been added only three weeks prior. When Dumbledore had been thrown off the International Confederation of Wizards Hailey had been promoted from Mugwump of Britain to Supreme Mugwump of Britain. Of the seventy countries represented in the Confederation, seven countries (each representing one of the seven continents) had two representatives: a Mugwump and a Supreme Mugwump. For a week, Britain was in the awkward place of having a Supreme Mugwump but no Mugwump, but thankfully the Confederation was as eager to remedy the situation as Hailey herself was, and they had therefore accepted her proposed nomination Brian Daly almost unanimously (Ingrid Bergfalk was the only dissenting vote). And now the Confederation would be thrown into turmoil once more.

Hailey pictured a worker from Magical Maintenance scraping the letters off her door; the image made her feel sick. She shook her head; now was not the time for self-pity, she had to move quickly. Inside her office, Clark and Alice Ruggles were hard at work: Clark was at his desk, sorting through mail while Alice was sending an owl through the Floo. 'There you are, Miss Ahlgrim,' Clark said, looking up. 'We had been wondering where you had gotten off to. These-' he pointed to a stack of scrolls he had placed on her desk- 'are merely awaiting your signature.'

Hailey snatched her quill and began to singing the papers furiously, careless of the splotches of ink her quill scattered across the parchment.

'Miss Ahlgrim,' Clark asked, his brow furrowed in concern, 'are you quite all right?'

'I am about to be sacked,' she said without preamble.

Clark gaped while Alice cursed.

'Clark,' Hailey said, 'I am terminating your contract, right now you do not want to be employed by me; the Ministry is surely going to try and drag you through the mud as well.' He nodded mutely. 'I want you to continue working for my campaign, you can work at my residence, I'll match your current salary-'

'Of course.' Clark did not hesitate. 'I told you I would follow you down a dragon's throat.'

'Why are you being let go?' Alice Ruggles asked. 'We are going to have to find a way to spin this...' she muttered distractedly.

Hailey hesitated. 'I got into a row with Cornelius Fudge,' she said simply. The truth of Fudge's motivations was far too troubling for her to discuss at the moment, she was still absorbing it as it was. Instead, she grabbed a blank memo and scrawled a few lines to Brian Daly. The International Confederation of Wizards had just accepted her nomination of the wizard; now he would have to find someone to fill _her _vacancy. After hurriedly signing her name, Hailey tapped the memo with her wand. The parchment crinkled and folded itself until it resembled a paper aeroplane. The note then flapped its wings and flew through the letter-box in the door.

Digging through her briefcase, Hailey pulled out the _Propositum Innocentiae_, which stated that Harry J. Potter was cleared of all charges against him and the scroll from Azkaban. The first scroll she deposited in the basket on her desk where it vanished to be processed by the Office of Files and Records, the second she held out for Clark to take. 'This needs to be taken to Rufus Scrimgeour.' Clark reached out to take the proffered scroll when Hailey yanked her hand back, suddenly indecisive. Just how deep did the conspiracy to frame herself and Harry Potter run? The Senior Undersecretary and the Minister himself was involved- surely it was not beyond the realm of possibility that the Head of the Auror Office might be complicit as well. But did she had any other choice _but_ to give the evidence to Scrimgeour? Clark frowned in concern at her hesitation, but said nothing.

Reaching a decision, she pointed her wand at the scroll. '_Geminio.'_ An identical scroll appeared beside the first, and she managed to catch it before it fell to the floor. The original she passed on to her assistant while she stowed the replica in the inner pockets of her robe.

She then riffled through the papers on her desk, ignoring the mess she made as neat columns tipped over and carefully sorted stacks became a disorganised pile as she searched for anything that could be completed in the few minutes she had left in the Ministry. But there was nothing else. The exhaustion that had been hounding her for days finally caught up with her and she sank into her chair. Her political career was finished. She had done so much during her years in the Ministry, yet there was so much more to do. There would always be more to do. Muggles, muggle-born, Squibs, even wizards and witches who were afflicted by lycanthropy or who were born with vampirism were mistrusted or maligned by far too many. Fudge had also effectively murdered her aspirations for Minister for Magic as well. Her main draw as a candidate was her experience and record as a Mugwump and Wizengamot Elder; if she was removed from both positions what did that say about her capabilities? Hailey might have baulked at the idea of entering the campaign initially, but now that she was committed she wanted to win with her whole heart. Her vision began to blur and she put her hand over her eyes.

Clark placed a hand on her shoulder and they commiserated in silence until the sound of indiscriminate shouting outside her office shouting drew Hailey's attention. She ignored it until she recognised the voice of Amelia Bones. What else could have possibly gone wrong? Hailey made her way to the door and pulled it open.

The Committee for the Assurance of Ethics and Accountability of Ministry Employees, Fudge and Amelia Bones were all arguing vehemently outside Hailey's office. They were so caught up in their disputation that they did not even notice her opening the door and listening in on the argument- everyone else on the entire floor was, though they kept their heads bent over their desks and pretended to be occupied with their work to hide their interest, making Hailey one of the more obvious eavesdroppers.

'Minister,' Amelia protested, 'This rule of yours- Bylaw 374- is on shaky legal ground at best. These sackings are-'

'Madam Bones,' Umbridge's high-pitched simper instantly grated on Hailey's nerves, 'if the Minister's new guidelines were in violation of any laws he would, of course, repeal them. But if the most you can say is that we are _nearly_ in violation of laws, there is no reason for the Minister to deviate from his present course of action.'

Amelia's jaw clenched, but she said nothing. The Committee members' worries were not assuaged by Umbridge's words. 'Minister Fudge,' a Scottish wizard, Kinnaird, she believed his name was, said, 'when you selected me for this position you assured me hardly anyone would lose their jobs over this- this _edict_ of yours, and that has most assuredly not been the case!'

At that moment, Umbridge spotted Hailey. 'So kind of you to join us,' she said with a nasty smile that made Hailey decidedly uneasy. 'We were just discussing you. In fact... yes, I do believe we have something for you.' She snatched a scroll from the Minister's hand and held it out to her, eyes alight with vicious triumph.

Hailey stared at the scroll, her heart plummeting in her chest. She did not need to open it to know its contents, the black ribbon tied around it was enough; similarly bound scrolls were given to all employees who were fired. How strange that it should end like this. A Muggle poem came to her mind, she had read it long ago and recalled little of it except that it was very bleak and that the author seemed to be descending into madness... or was that despair? But she did remember the end, the author's parting sentiment that the world would end in a whisper, not a shout. And so had ended her career, not in a 'grand, dramatic display of martyrdom,' as she had once feared, but in a mere slip of the tongue.

Umbridge thrust the scroll under her nose, jarring Hailey from her thoughts. Hailey crossed her arms across her chest and glared down at the squat witch.

She did not take the scroll.

It was a childish display of rebellion, Hailey knew, but even that caused the smirk to slip a little off the witch's pudgy face. Umbridge shook the scroll, her voice loosing its saccharine edge and becoming harder. 'Take it! Take it, you silly girl!'

'No.' Hailey was already sacked, there wasn't much else Umbridge could do.

Their stony confrontation was interrupted by the arrival of Phoebe, who was carrying a bulging burlap sack in her arms and had another slung over her shoulder. 'Excuse me...' She seemed to shrink under everyone's stares. 'I-I was told to deliver-'

Fudge snapped at Phoebe to shut up and leave but the girl shook her head, uncharacteristically insistent. 'No, I was told to deliver these,' she indicated the sack in her arms, 'straight away.'

Fudge made a move to grab her, to drag her away, but before he could Phoebe upturned the bag at his feet and parchments, over a hundred sheets, cascaded to the floor. 'These are applications for termination under Bylaw 374.'

'_All_ of these?' gasped Agnus Holt, the third member of the Committee.

'And these.' Phoebe slung the bag off her shoulder and dumped its contents on top of the mountain of parchment.

Hailey stared. There was no way the Ministry could function if only _half_ of the applications turned into notices of termination. And so far the Committee had yet to reject a single application.

'What is the meaning of this?' Fudge demanded, his face turning purple.

'How should I know?' Phoebe asked, a shadow of bitterness in her voice. 'I'm just a stupid Squib.'

Fudge could think of no suitable reply.

Phoebe dug a handful of parchments out of the pocket of her robes. 'A couple more for your consideration,' she read the names off them as she tossed the applications onto the pile. 'Cornelius Oswald Fudge... Dolores Jane Umbridge... Agnus Cherie Holt... Robert Scott Kinnaird...'

For a long, uncomfortable moment no one said a word, and all eyes were fixed on the Minister.

Hailey did not see what choice Fudge had but to repeal Bylaw 374. There was no way the Committee could rule on their own applications, and while Fudge might be able to find some others to serve on the Committee, chances were high that their names were in the deluge of applications as well. Also, at this point, it was obvious the vast majority, if not all, of the applications were fraudulent. Sorting out which were legitimate and which were not would take weeks, and if anyone made the suggestion of Veritaserum to aid in the investigation, well, Fudge would not be able to say he had not spoken of Voldemort's resurrection. Fudge had been hoist on his own petard, and Hailey could not deny the satisfaction she felt in that idea.

Fudge's eyes darted from face to face, searching for an escape, a way to extricate himself from the situation, but there was none. He ran a sweaty hand over his mouth. 'Uh...' He swallowed once more before continuing, 'In the interests of... interests of the continued welfare of the Ministry, I...' he closed his eyes as if the words were causing him physical pain, 'I am going to repeal Bylaw 374.'

Hailey felt a wide smile spreading across her face. Clark nodded in satisfaction, Phoebe clapped her hands and one of the wizards listening in actually cheered. She could hear the whispered news spread throughout the office, like ripples in a disturbed pool of water. Hailey was au fait in Ministry policy and thus knew what was coming next.

'And as Bylaw 374 is no longer on the books,' Amelia Bones said, struggling to keep her voice from betraying her relief, 'any terminations made under Bylaw 374 will be made null and void.'

Unable to remain under the weighted stares any longer, the disgraced Minister hurried away. Amelia nodded cordially at Hailey, then left as well, to get started on removing Bylaw 374 from the books. Holt and Kinnaird slunk away as well, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, acting as if they had been wholly uninvolved in the whole affair.

'Thank you for your excellent timing, Phoebe,' Hailey said, smiling at the young girl, taking her hands in hers. Hailey glanced down: the girl's hands were splattered with ink, similar to how Hailey's were as she had been furiously signing documents. Hailey nearly laughed when she realised that Phoebe had not only delivered the forms, she had _written_ them.

The girl's eyes danced and she smiled mischievously when she saw that Hailey had cottoned on.

'_Thank you_,' she repeated fervently, squeezing Phoebe's hands.

Phoebe's smile faded as she looked somewhere over Hailey's shoulder. 'It's-it's uh, nothing,' she said quickly, grabbed the empty sacks and scurried off.

Hailey turned around to see Umbridge as furious as Hailey had ever seen her, fat fingers crumpling the scroll in her hands (_probably wishing it was my neck_, Hailey thought ruefully). Instead, Umbridge flung the scroll on top of the heap and glared up at her.

With a wave of her wand, Hailey Vanished the mound of parchment. She was dreadfully tempted to say something to the squat bigot of a witch, but chose to hold her tongue. She had already been sacked once this afternoon. Still... Hailey thought of the terror Harry Potter must have felt when the dementors swept down on him in Little Whinging, and his poor Muggle cousin, and found she could not resist a parting shot. 'I expect you shall be hearing from the Aurors soon, Dolores,' she said in a low voice, turning away to head back into her office.

_'GET DOWN!'_

Hailey obeyed the voice before she was fully cognisant of its message, throwing herself to the floor as a spell sizzled overhead. Shouts and screams- splintering wood and shattered glass flew everywhere. Hailey threw her arms over her head and squeezed her eyes shut- there was a stab of pain in her arm but it was overridden by the wave of fear and the pounding of her heart.

'Miss Ahlgrim!' Clark was at her side in an instant, helping her into a sitting position. Two Aurors, a black wizard and a purple-haired witch rushed over. Both of their wands were out. Hailey twisted around to look behind her. Umbridge was standing above her, wand extended, pointed right where Hailey had been standing- but Umbridge was frozen by a spell, as still as the statues in the Atrium.

Feeling as though she might be sick, she slowly turned to look at where Umbridge's spell had hit. The door to Hailey's office had been obliterated, along with a sizeable chunk of the wall. Inside her office. Horatio was squawking in terror as he flew about the room in a panic. Hailey stared at the damage, yet somehow it did not quite sink in. 'What kind of curse...?'

The black Auror did not answer, instead he gently pulled Hailey to her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, but she managed to stand unaided.

The purple-haired witch, who was fastening iron manacles to Umbridge, muttered, 'Bitch tried to take your head off!'

Hailey's legs nearly gave out. Clark and the Auror lead her to an unoccupied desk and she sank in the seat. She tried not to think about what would have happened if the Aurors had not been there. Her arm throbbed painfully and she looked down. A fragment of the door had lodged itself into her exposed forearm. 'I'm bleeding,' she said flatly.

Clark bent over her arm. The black Auror joined him. 'It does not appear too serious, here I'll-' He glanced up at the crowd of frightened onlookers. 'Can you stand, Miss Ahlgrim? We're just going to move to your office.'

Her legs felt as if the bones had been removed, but she nodded and managed to make it to her feet with Clark's assistance.

'Tonks,' the Auror asked his partner, 'will you be able to take care of things from here?'

''Course.'

Inside her office, Clark pulled out a chair for her while Alice conjured a heavy curtain to replace the door and tried to calm down Horatio who had taken refuge on the top of the bookcase.

The Auror knelt in front of her and examined her arm. The splinter was roughly the size of her finger. He Vanished the piece of wood and healed the gouge with a murmured incantation.

'Thank you,' she whispered. Everything was somehow distant, as if it was all happening on some theatre stage and she was merely a spectator. Her brain felt sluggish, as she tried to process what had just happened and what had _nearly _happened: Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic had just attempted to decapitate her.

Still, there seemed to be something she was forgetting. She thought hard, but it remained out of her reach.

It was Clark who asked it for her.

'We are immensely grateful that you and were here,' he said, 'but may I ask why? Miss Ahlgrim said the Aurors would wish to contact Dolores Umbridge, is that why you were here?'

The Auror hesitated for a fraction of a second before replying. 'We received a tip from a reliable source that Dolores Umbridge had falsified some documents and forged Miss Ahlgrim's signature. Tonks and I were on our way to speak to Miss Ahlgrim about the matter.'

Horatio fluttered from his perch on the bust of Hammurabi and onto her shoulder, a comforting weight, even though his talons dug into her robes. If it was not for the two Aurors' fortuitous timing and the shouted warning...Wishing she possessed more eloquence, Hailey said, 'Thank you, I cannot ever repay this, but if there is anything I can-'

'Nonsense.' The Auror got to his feet. 'I'm just glad you're all right. If there isn't anything else, I need to collect statements from everyone outside. I shall be back to speak with you shortly.'

It wasn't until the Auror left that Hailey realised she had forgotten to ask for his name.

Alice straightened the brass perch Horatio had knocked over while Clark handed her a cup of tea. 'Here you go, Miss Ahlgrim. I can fetch you a Calming Draught if you'd like.'

'No, it's fine.' Her hand absentmindedly reached up to gently stroke Horatio's head.

He dragged a chair next to hers and sat heavily on it. 'It shan't be difficult to cancel the rest of the evenings appointments,' Clark endeavoured to make his tone business-like. 'Mr Laukkanen's assistant Floo'd an hour ago to tell me that Mr Laukkanen will have to reschedule himself.'

'I'm not cancelling any of my appointments.'

Clark looked at her disbelievingly. 'Miss Ahlgrim, the Minister nearly sacked you and Dolores Umbridge nearly murdered you! No one will fault you for taking the rest of the day off. And then there was that meeting earlier, I don't know what happened there...'

'I-I was at Azkaban...' She hated even mentioning that place. Being around dementors brought back memories of the King's Cross Massacre, of being huddled underneath the train while around her curses flashed like lightning and people screamed as they fought to escape the onslaught.

'Alone? Oh, Miss Ahlgrim...'

'It's all right, Clark.' It really was not, but now was not the time to delve into that matter; there was too much that needed to be done. 'We are at war, Clark,' Hailey said firmly, 'things may be difficult, but it will only get worse. If I fall apart now, how am I suppose to manage later?'

'As you say, Miss Ahlgrim...' Clark grabbed a blank memo from his desk. 'I'll get the Magical Maintenance in here, see if they can fix this...' He gestured vaguely to the large hole where her door once stood.

Alice snatched her cloak off the cloakrack. 'My appointment with Barry Curtis is in a quarter of an hour.' She pulled the cloak over today's ensemble: a pair of genes, a dress and some brightly-coloured footwear Hailey believed were called 'rain boots.' 'Curtis is really excited for an opportunity to interview you,' Alice said as she fastened her cloak, 'it'll be a much fairer account than you would get with those louts at The _Daily Prophet_.' Alice turned to leave, but halted when she was confronted by the velvet curtain, a visible reminder of how truly fraught the day had been. Shaking her head, Alice pulled back the curtain and stepped out.

Tearing her eyes away from the curtain, Hailey flicked on the WWN and began to put her office back to rights as the soothing strains of Motet's 38th Symphony filled the room. The chunks of plaster scattered across the floor were able to be cleared with a simple Vanishing Charm, though Hailey discovered that one of the legs on the sofa had a deep gouge in it and the low table in front of it had a large crack in it. The table was an antique, it would be difficult to replace. An armchair had been tipped over; she righted it with a wave of her wand.

The damage done by Umbridge's wayward spell was severe, as was often the way it was with Dark Magic. Even if the spell did not strike its intended target, it still had the capacity to be most destructive. Most spells, jinxes, even curses would only leave a small, radial mark, if any mark at all, on the surface they struck. Not so with Dark Magic.

Satisfied that her office was as presentable as it could be without the expertise of Magical Maintenance, Hailey settled herself behind her desk. She glanced at the scrolls and parchment strewn across her desk. With a sigh she propped her elbows on the desk and rested her head in her hands. Contrary to what she told Clark, at the moment she wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in her bathtub until her skin pruned and let someone else deal with it all. But she could pretend to be strong and resolute, even if it was the last thing she felt at the moment.

Though Clark remained worried at her current state, he nonetheless slipped away to deliver to Rufus Scrimgeour what would be another nail in Umbridge's coffin. With attempted murder of a member of the Wizengamot, forgery, criminal falsification of records and two counts of attempted casting of Dark Magic that would forever maim or disfigure an individual (since Umbridge was the one who sent the dementors to Harry Potter and Dudley Dursley she would be held responsible for the dementors' attempts to Kiss the two boys), Dolores Umbridge would be in Azkaban for a very, very long time.

That thought should have brought her satisfaction, if not joy. As one of the most vocal opponents of the rights of werewolves and other minorities, Dolores Umbridge had been a thorn in Hailey's side for years. With her gone, legislature promoting equal rights for discriminated groups would doubtlessly flow more smoothly. Umbridge was not the only bigot in the Ministry, but she was one of the more active ones. In the past months she had even been creating trouble for Albus and Hogwarts. Along with Fudge she had proposed, and helped pass, various Educational Decrees. They sounded innocuous enough, but Hailey was not fooled. More than ten Educational Decrees had been passed and Hailey had the feeling that she was only warming up. But now that Umbridge would be gone, she doubted the Decrees would continue. They all had more pressing concerns now.

As Hailey straightened the stacks of parchments on her desk her stomach growled fiercely and she realised that she still hadn't eaten any lunch.


	10. A Night In Godric's Hollow

A Happy New Year to all! It is my great joy to announce that my Muse has decided to come out of retirement. I am looking forward to continuing this story. I appreciate the patience and understanding of my readers and those who have taken the time to review. I wish to share my gratitude with my reviewers and my wonderful beta, Bil.

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Chapter Ten: A Night In Godric's Hollow

_'There are some feelings Time cannot benumb.' -Lord Byron_

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_'...fear is a powerful force, I am not about to deny that. Nor shall I deny that the obstacles we find ourselves facing are anything other than perilous. But as has been shown repeatedly through our history, the English nation is never so great as in adversity..." _

Severus was seated in his customary seat in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place listening with the rest of the Order to the WWN, where Ahlgrim, in a singular exemplification of stupidity, had just announced her belief in the Dark Lord's return. The Order had had knowledge of the impeding speech for a week, as Albus had told them of Ahlgrim's plan. Severus had been furious with the decision and had demanded the Headmaster beg her to reconsider. Despite her idealism and young age (she was four years his junior), Ahlgrim was a strong candidate. Strategically, it made far more sense for her to keep her mouth shut until after the election. As the Dark Lord's own candidate was denying His recrudescence, the Dark Lord would be remaining inactive for the time being, and thus Ahlgrim had just declared her belief in an unsubstantiated rumour the public would never want to believe.

The Headmaster had said Ahlgrim was resolute, that she felt that the public deserved to know the truth. Severus was convinced the witch's decision was influenced by the fact that Fudge had been keeping the truth of the Dark Lord's return to himself (another gem of information the Order had received from Ahlgrim). Albus had said she was doing what she felt was right. Severus was uncertain of the Headmaster's feelings on the matter. Albus was a big believer in morality, but surely he saw that Ahlgrim's decision was ill-considered?

Severus let his gaze wander over the assembled group as his attention wandered from Ahlgrim's speech. Most of their faces were grim. The Order meeting that had just concluded had been taxing for all as they tried to decide who needed protection and how to best divide their extremely limited resources. Shacklebolt noticed he was being observed and inclined his head in Severus's direction; he received a curt nod in return. Shacklebolt was a worthy addition to the Order. He was one of the few who did not despise him and Shacklebolt had extended him the same regard and trust as he had bestowed on the rest of the Order; when Severus had contacted him and told the Auror that Ahlgrim's signature had been forged on the order that sent the dementors to Little Whinging, the Auror had responded immediately. At their next meeting, Shacklebolt had actually thanked him, saying that if it were not for his tip, Ahlgrim would be dead.

The public, even many in the Order, had been shocked when The_ Daily Prophet_ reported that Dolores Umbridge had attempted to murder Hailey Ahlgrim, right inside the Ministry no less. Severus had not been surprised. Just because the woman was not a Death Eater did not mean she was incapable of casting Dark Magic or wanting someone dead. There were plenty of twisted souls who had never entertained the notion of joining the Dark Lord's fold, or had even fought against Him. Bartemius Crouch Sr was one individual who came to mind, though there were many others. The attempt on Ahlgrim's life had granted Ahlgrim much publicity, which she had used to her advantage.

_'...Tonight every one of us is faced with a choice: whether to stand against the Dark forces that once again threaten all we hold dear, or the choice to stand for nothing and leave all of Britain dependent upon the virtues, conceits and wickedness of a man we dare not name.' _

And with that, Ahlgrim's speech ended and the programme cut to Barry Curtis and some other newsreader for the promised analysis and discussion. For almost a full five seconds there was complete silence before Curtis stammered for someone to cut to a commercial break; evidently, Ahlgrim's speech shocked the press as much as it had everyone else. The Dark Lord would not be pleased by this development; Severus doubted Lucius Malfoy would escape the next meeting unscathed.

Molly Weasley had made her famous meatballs and the table was already set for dinner. She asked him if he wished to stay and dine with the rest of the Order; he brusquely shook his head in denial. The majority of the Order members were relieved by the pronouncement (though they tried to conceal it). He left Grimmauld Place without a word; indeed he had not spoken all evening. Severus ducked behind the rubbish bins outside Number Eleven and Apparated to the clump of trees outside of Hogwarts's gates, where the Anti-Apparation wards ended.

The August dusk was warm. Overhead the sky was a vast array of indigos and blues interrupted by the faint pinpricks of the night's burgeoning stars. He made his way to his quarters without encountering another soul save for the Bloody Baron who merely inclined his head in acknowledgement before passing through a dungeon wall.

The door to his quarters was located behind a tapestry of a Common Welsh Green dragon crouched menacingly on a mountaintop. He pulled the heavy fabric aside, unlocked the door with his wand, and let himself inside. Pulling a small key out of his pocket, he weaved through the stacks of books, spare cauldrons and boxes of empty phials resting on the floor, past the armchair in front of the hearth and to his cluttered desk.

There were two competing theories as to how to best ward an object such as a door, drawer or chest: the McGinnis Rule, and the Law of Superfluity. The McGinnis Rule argued that the best way to keep a lock locked was to place a myriad of heavy wards on the lock to make it impossible to open without a key, while the Law of Superfluity put forth the idea that, due to the danger of losing the key, the best course of action was to rely on spells to guard the lock so it was _nearly _impossible for anyone other than the original spell caster to break the wards. Most wizards followed the Law of Superfluity. But most wizards did not practice the amount of caution Severus did.

He unlocked his desk and pulled out the contents of the left drawer: ledgers containing the grades of all his students, lesson plans, several capped inkwells of red ink he used for grading. He stared at the empty drawer, composing himself, before he reached into the drawer and pulled out the false bottom.

Regulus Black grinned at him from a wrinkled photograph. Severus, who was also present in the picture, glanced up from the thick text he was reading to scowl at being interrupted. His look of displeasure faded to be replaced by a small smirk when he realised who was behind the camera.

Life was not easy then either. Severus had battled with the Marauders's ridicule and vicious pranks almost daily, the Slytherin House mostly ignored him, only his usefulness as a tutor in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts kept him from being ostracised completely. And above everything else was the dark, ominous cloud of the war that raged outside the castle walls. Despite the tumultuous times he had grown up in, his two friends had made the years bearable. The photograph was painful to look at. Severus pushed it aside, shifting through the stacks of old letters, crinkled Cauldron Cake wrappers, a silk ribbon, Regulus's wand and a stoppered phial containing a lock of hair to grab the iron key in the corner of the drawer. Secreting the key into the innermost pocket of his robes, he returned the drawer to its proper place and secured it.

After casting a muffling charm on his boots and a Bedazzling Hex on his cloak, Severus left his office, his usual stride which students had always bemoaned as unnaturally stealthy now completely silent; neither ghost nor portrait would detect his presence in the castle halls. The sound of the main doors was nearly impossible to deaden, so he exited by way of a side door that lead to a secluded courtyard. Severus scaled the wall with ease and made his way down the sloping lawns to the castle gates.

Fang, who was tied up outside Hagrid's darkened house, lifted his head aroused by a curious smell. As Severus spent so much of his time surrounded by potion ingredients which ranged from the maladorous (sulphur, distilled wand wood) to the saccharine (Billywig stings and pomegranates), he carried with him a unique scent. Minerva had once complained he smelled like a walking apothecary. To a dog, the smell must have been curious indeed. But the wind shifted and the scent was lost; Fang lowered his head with a faint whine.

Once outside the castle wards, he spun on his heel and Disapparated.

The wind was stronger in Somerset, the air laden with the expectation of a coming storm. Severus glanced up at the darkening skies. The clouds were rolling in, but he thought the storm should hold off several hours at least.

Godric's Hollow was a place forgotten by time. Each year Severus returned he expected it to be different, for something to have changed, but it never did. The houses were all lit from within, beckoning playing children to return home. Across the street an old woman unloaded a bag of groceries from the boot of her car, if she had seen him, she doubtlessly would have waved and extended a cheery hello. Some might have found the village charming, picturesque even, but to Severus it was nothing but a facade. He ignored the warm glow from the houses and focused instead on the creeping shadows, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement. He crept to the humble, white-washed church that reminded him of the one found in his hometown of Dun's Mill.

The graveyard was behind the church, a simple plot of land with a low, wooden fence and a towering oak tree on the border. The trickling of a nearby creek could be heard. Unlocking the gate with the iron key he carried, Severus stepped around the tombstones and plaques, taking care not to step where any of the bodies were buried. At the edge of the cemetery, under the eaves of the oak was the grave he sought.

The white monument depicted a women, whose beauty put Aphrodite to shame, clothed in a flowing gown leaning over a slab of marble. Her head was pillowed on her arms, as though it was a lazy summer afternoon and she simply wished to close her eyes and daydream as she felt the breeze through her hair and listened to the birds sing to one another. The tombstone read:

_Lily Potter_

_Beloved Wife, Witch, Mother and Friend_

_12 August 1960- 31 October 1981_

_Speramus melior; resurget cineribus _

He ran his hand over the monument, the marble smooth under his fingertips. The funeral had been simple. In all the confusion after the Dark Lord's defeat- the remaining Death Eaters who needed to be caught, witches and wizards being freed from the Imperius Curse to learn they had committed atrocities- there had been no time for fanfare. Dumbledore had wanted a modest grave, believing it would be best not to draw attention to Lily and Potter's resting place- lest it be desecrated by the Dark Lord's followers. But Severus could not stand the thought of Lily being forgotten, of being dumped in a hole in the ground with no honour or recognition. He believed Lily would have preferred to be buried in Cumbria, near her grandfather's house. She had been happy there, and for a brief time, he had been as well. But his wishes were less than worthless, he wasn't considered a friend of Potter's so he wasn't considered a friend of hers. Still, he had written a letter for Lupin, pleading his case... but he had never sent it. Severus knew any words on his behalf would not have been well received.

The grave was surrounded by lush green grass, with heliotropes blossoming near the headstone. He wondered if the caretaker was ever curious as to why the grass never browned nor the flowers ever faded, even in the driest of summers.

Lily Evans had been the best part of his life. She was his first and dearest friend. He had loved her more than anything, and even though his most ardent love for her hadn't been enough, he still acted under its sway. Still returned every year on her birthday because he could not let go. Resting his back against a nearby tombstone he sunk to the cool earth, resting his arms over his knees as he gazed at the familiar grave. The lamps from the inside of the church were no longer enough, so he added the glow of wandlight.

The first drop of rain landed on his nose and was soon joined by a volley of others. The promised storm had arrived, but Severus had no intention of leaving. Even after he was soaked to the skin, his wet robes clinging to his body, he remained where he was.

On occasion he had given thought to whether his assistance to the Order, his longing to see the Dark Lord dead was a matter of personal revenge, or if Lily had managed to reform his character and his desire was simply for a better world. Then he had seen Harry Potter, and he had known. Severus was aware that his behavior towards Potter was somewhat petty, Albus had spoken to him about the matter countless time, but each time he saw Potter he had been unable to help himself. James Potter had known that he had loved Lily, had taunted him about that fact secretly, away from prying ears. Potter had never loved Lily, she was just another way for Potter to score a point against him. A way for Potter to best him once and for all. Lily should have seen it. 'There's something good in everyone,' she had told him once, 'sometimes you just have to dig deep to find it.'

Harry Potter's behavior was beyond presumptuous, taking credit for something that had all been his mother's doing. Lily Potter had been the one who had defeated the Dark Lord, _she_ had been the one who cast the spell. Potter had nothing to do with it. Instead of being remembered as the strong, vibrant, amazing witch that Lily was, she had been relegated to the position of being the mother of 'The Boy Who Lived', a ridiculous moniker if he had ever heard one. Just surviving wasn't that much of an accomplishment, and it was insulting to imply that those who survived were somehow stronger, better people than those who had not. There were plenty of good people who had perished in the war. And there were plenty of people who survived who did not deserve to. Severus was reminded of that fact every time he looked in a mirror.

Before Lily had been drawn into the War and became part of the Order of the Phoenix she had wanted to be a Healer. Her dream was of helping people, of easing the suffering in the world. She certainly had enough opportunities to practice on him. Even before Hogwarts he was often getting into fights, Dun's Mill was full of impoverished boys who had nothing else to do but bully those weaker than themselves. And Severus, an awkward, ugly child with his nose always in a book and a mother who was widely regarded as insane, was the perfect target. Lily often played nursemaid in such situations, helping him stuff his bloody nose with tissues, splinting broken fingers and using bags of frozen peas to as a cold compress.

After the clouds had hurled down every last drop on the muddy ground the storm died, leaving the strong smell of earth and life. The sun was rising over the horizon and everything around him was cast in a wan, grey light. It was morning.

Severus wiped the damp streaks from his face and spelled his robes dry. His white mask was already concealed within the folds of his robes for he knew what was to come. He leaned forward to brush his lips against the monument when he was interrupted by the loud _creak_ of a door opening; the Muggle vicar was awake. Severus dashed to the low fence surrounding the cemetery and climbed over it, slipping away like a common burglar. He had just enough time to flick his wand at the door, locking the gate, and reforming the magical wards surrounding the cemetery before the vicar noticed there was anything amiss.


	11. Invicta

__Thank you to all of my wonderful readers and reviewers! And special thanks to the new members of the team: my beta, Clumsy Ninjable, and my britpicker, Charlio.

Yes, I know it has been ages, thanks for your patience, and I promise the wait will be MUCH shorter. The next three or so chapters are already written and just need to be edited. Enjoy the story, and as always, please review!

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_Chapter Eleven: Invicta_

"_The truth is a terrible thing_

_for oft what we think_

_is not how things be."-Otis, from Wilmot Quiverlance's wizard play 'The Warlock of Wiltshire'_

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Severus cast one last look at the graveyard in Godric's Hollow and Apparated to the rolling hills of Scotland. His feet had barely touched the ground outside of Hogwarts's gates when his left arm burned viciously. His hands clenched at his side, forestalling the instinct to grab his arm. Severus had been expecting the summons for some time now, ever since Ahlgrim had made her announcement, but the Dark Lord preferred to summon His servants in the early hours of the morning or late at night long after everyone had gone to bed. It would not do for anyone's absence to be noted.

As Severus made his way to his quarters, he sent his Patronus to Albus, notifying the Headmaster he had been summoned. Once in his quarters, Severus made his way to his bedroom and, removing the false back of his wardrobe, revealed the hidden compartment where he kept an extra wand, a few volumes on Dark Magic and the robes and white mask he wore as a Death Eater. Pulling the robe and mask from their hiding place, Severus shrunk the items and placed them in the pocket of his robes. Not wanting to incur the Dark Lord's ire by making Him wait, Severus hurried out of the castle and past the gates where he ducked behind a tree, donned the robe and mask and Disapparated.

As soon as Severus appeared in the abandoned warehouse he knew his earlier prediction had been correct: Lucius Malfoy would be fortunate to survive the night. Seeing the Dark Lord angry, _truly_ angry was a rare thing. Yes, He was burning up with hate, revenge and desire for power, but He always held His anger in check. That was what made Him truly terrifying. Any Dark Wizard could cast a curse on someone in the heat of the moment, but whenever the Dark Lord cursed someone it was a calculated move, calm and purposeful.

But at this moment, He was seething. He swept backed and forth before His assembled Death Eaters His cloak whispering across the dusty floor. Again, it would seem all were present, something that usually occurred when there was a punishment to be meted out.

Nagini, sensing her master's fury slithered restlessly, circling around Avery, Nott and Crabbe until she came to rest before Malfoy.

'I have not yet heard back from the giants in the mountains, a dozen of my servants remain imprisoned in Azkaban and the contents of the prophecy are still unknown to me,' the Dark Lord hissed through clenched teeth. 'The time is not yet ripe for a concerted strike against the Ministry or even against the Order of the Phoenix. I was meant to have the element of surprise.' He halted in his pacing and rounded on the pale wizard, 'Please, Lucius, tell me how am I to surprise anyone when this blood traitor calls a press conference and announces my return to the entire world?'

'My L-lord,' the stammer in Malfoy's voice revealed that he was all too aware of the tenuous ground on which he stood, 'Your magnificent return could not be kept secret forever. A precipitous announcement by a blood traitor seeking to grab headlines is unlikely to be taken seriously. Last summer the Dark Mark itself appeared in the sky during the Quidditch World Cup and no one took that as evidence of Your return.'

The Dark Lord paused in his pacing and glanced at Malfoy, his scarlet eyes narrowing. Casually he flicked his wand at Malfoy, '_Insectumicere_,' he hissed, his lip curling as he watched Malfoy shudder at the feeling of phantom bugs crawling over him, and then scream as the bugs all began to bite down at once.

'It is true many will be reluctant to believe the witch,' The Dark Lord said calmly, only slightly raising his voice to be heard over Malfoy's screams, 'and it is true secrecy was not my original stratagem. I had planned my return so perfectly, so meticulously. The thought sustained me during the long, dark months before I regained my body. Could you imagine it? All of Britain watching this spectacle- The Triwizard Tournament- unfold at Hogwarts. And then out of the maze I emerge and drop the body of the so-called Boy Who Lived, the one who people thought had defeated me, their only hope, at my feet. Oh, how magnificent that would have been!' The Dark Lord suddenly scowled, irritated at Malfoy's screams and cast a Silencing Charm on the writhing wizard. 'But fortune was not with Lord Voldemort that night. Somehow the boy managed to escape and I was certain the Ministry would have knowledge of my return. Except Fudge's foolishness was greater than I had thought and he refused to believe the boy's testimony. I then considered that perhaps discretion would be best and altered my strategy. If the Minister refused to consider that for me, death was not as final as previously thought, I would be free to operate in the shadows, gather my allies, and wait for the opportune moment to strike. A chance that is now lost to me.' With a deft wave of His wand, He removed the curse and Silencing Charm he had placed on Malfoy. 'You should be grateful that I find myself still in need of your service, Lucius.'

Nagini, seeming to sense that there would be no banquet tonight, slinked away into the shadows. But the Dark Lord was not yet through with Lucius Malfoy. 'Observe,' He said, towering over the prone form of the once-proud Malfoy, 'The fate of those who disappoint me.' He ripped off Malfoy's white mask and tossed it aside, then aimed His wand at Malfoy's knee. '_Fracturossis_,' He hissed, shattering the knee in an ear-splitting _crack_ that made even Severus flinch.

The Dark Lord would not be so plebeian as to physically strike Malfoy, such brawling was better suited to the Muggles, or so He believed. Not that He was at all lacking in ways to inflict pain. The Cruciatus Curse may be the most infamous, but it was only one of many. With a flick of His wand the Dark Lord produce a whip of fire which he lashed at Malfoy's face, stomach and legs. Lucius shrieked in pain, battling the instinct to crawl away or attempt to defend himself, knowing that to do so would only enrage the Dark Lord further. The scent of charred hair filled the air, mingling unpleasantly with the smell of damp.

The assembled Death Eaters said nothing and did not so much as twitch as the Dark Lord tortured Lucius, fearful of drawing attention to themselves. A purple, almost black light shot out of the His yew wand, casting the Blight on Malfoy's arm.

Severus hoped that the Dark Lord would get swept away by his anger and inadvertently kill him, but Severus knew that he would not be so lucky. The Dark Lord had far too much practice in torture to make such a careless mistake.

The Blight began to ever so slowly crawl up Malfoy's arms, turning his veins black and making his fingers spasm.

Malfoy's body raked with coughs, expelling blood onto the dusty floor. 'M-my Lord…'

His red eyes narrowed, lip curling into a snarl._'Crucio_!'

Malfoy writhed on the ground and screamed until his voice grew hoarse. The minutes crawled by. Severus kept his face impassive and the wards around his mind fast, only allowing his hate and anger to slip through.

The Dark Lord was adept at the Cruicatus Curse, He knew precisely how long it would take for a wizard's mind to break, how long it would take to drive a wizard to insanity. And so he brought Malfoy right to the edge of that point, before He murmured a soft, '_Finite Incantatem_.' He cast his eyes over the assembled Death Eaters. 'You are dismissed.' And gathered up Nagini in His arms and turned on His heel and Disapparated.

The rest of the Death Eaters followed, filling the warehouse with the whip-like cracks of Disapparation. Severus quickly took in his surroundings, including a brief glimpse of the landscape outside the broken window, familiarising himself with the area. He Apparated to a empty field in Wales, counted to twenty and then Apparated back to the deserted warehouse.

Malfoy lay on the floor, one hand clutching his stomach in an attempt to put pressure on the bleeding wound. A large chunk of hair had been singed off, and he had a vicious burn near his left eye. His Blighted arm lay useless at his side. Severus guessed at the rate it was spreading Malfoy had about an hour before it would have to be amputated to prevent the Blight from spreading into his chest and killing him. The majority of his wounds though were hidden under his robes, which were stained with sweat and, in not a few spots, what had to be blood. As soon as he spotted Severus, he grabbed his wand with his bloodied hand and pointing it at him.

Severus rolled his eyes and disarmed him with a silent spell. 'No need to be so rude, Lucius.'

Malfoy let his head drop back onto the dusty floor, his breathing ragged. Severus knelt next to him, pulling his bag of potions from his pocket. With a wave of his wand the bag assumed its regular dimensions. Malfoy said nothing as Severus pulled out phials of burn paste, Blood-Replenishing Potion and a muscle relaxant Severus himself had created. No potion could eliminate the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, but there existed a few potions with the ability to dilute it, or forestall tremors so flight was possible.

'What…' with great effort Malfoy focused on him, 'what are you doing?' he slurred.

Severus uncorked the phial of burn paste with his teeth and spread some of the orange paste over Malfoy's temple. 'Serving the Dark Lord and doing all in my power to advance His great work. Which at the moment entails ensuring you don't die before you can refute Ahlgrim's spurious accusations of the Dark Lord's return.' He Vanished Malfoy's boot and placed the phial in Malfoy's shaking hand so he could put it on his stomach and leg. He set the Blood-Replenishing Potion next to Malfoy who, despite the condition he was in, eyed it with suspicion. 'Come, _friend_,' Severus sneered over the word. 'No need to be suspicious. I've had ample opportunity to kill you, were that my wish.'

The election was a battle Ahlgrim would have to win on her own, for as easily as Severus could eliminate Lucius Malfoy from the election, to do so would be to alert the Dark Lord to the existence of a traitor in His midst.

Malfoy downed the phial, then dropped in shock when he saw the item Severus had pulled out of his bag. 'What in Merlin's name is that?' he asked, his voice hoarse from all of the screaming.

Severus screwed the needle onto the syringe and grabbed a rubber-topped phial full of a white liquid.

'Is that thing _Muggle_?' Malfoy demanded, outraged as Severus stuck the needle into the phial and slowly filled the syringe.

'It's a potion that will stop the progression of the Blight.' Severus cast a Scouring Charm on the Blighted arm. 'Theoretically.'

'_Theoretically_?'

'It's proven effective on pigs.'

With great effort, Malfoy shook his head. 'There is no way in _hell_ you are-'

'_Petrificus Totalus_.' Malfoy froze completely, save for his eyes which narrowed at him accusingly. Severus paid him no mind as he lined up the syringe with the median cephalic vein, pulled the skin taut and plunged the needle into the vein. As soon as he pushed the plunger the veins in the Blighted area turned from black to blue. 'There. You'll still need a Healer to remove the Blight, but now he won't have to take your arm with it. I trust you know someone who is discrete?'

Malfoy blinked at him.

Severus undid the Full Body Bind, gathered up the empty phials and rose to his feet, kicking Malfoy's mask into the man's reach. With a wave of his wand he conjured a splint and bandages for Malfoy's knee. If the break had been in a toe or a nose, Severus would have been able to heal it easily, but a break in the knee would be tricky to heal without causing stiffness. 'Will you be able to stand?'

Malfoy frowned as he tied the splint around his injured leg, a feat made difficult by his still frozen hand.

Rolling his eyes, Severus hauled the man to his feet and looped one of Malfoy's arms over his shoulder. 'If we Side-Apparate to the Manor, will the wards let me through?'

Malfoy slowly nodded. 'As long as I am with you.'

* * *

Draco Malfoy leaned back in his chair, chewing the tip of his quill in thought. His copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ was opened before him but his mind couldn't be further from the text. McGonagall's essays were tough, as tough as Snape's, except he didn't have the advantage of being able to write McGonagall and ask for help. Snape would never give him the answer, but he'd go over concepts Draco had trouble with and point him in the direction of other resources.

It used to be that Draco could go to his godfather for more than just help with lessons, but that time was long past. Growing up, Snape had been a fixed, if aloof, presence in his life. Snape watched him a couple of times and sent him pocket change for his birthdays. Snape even took him to his first Quidditch game. But as Draco grew, so did the distance between him and his godfather. Draco had hoped that having him as a Professor and Head of House would help shrink that distance and bring them closer. If anything, the opposite had occurred.

Ocassionally, Draco had wondered why Severus was his godfather when he didn't seem at all close to his father. The stories his father told of Hogwarts, like the time in his sixth year he won the Slytherin House Cup by docking twenty House points from a Hufflepuff whose laces were untied, always featured one Lucius Malfoy. Snape was never mentioned.

Secretly though, Draco liked the stories his godfather told better. It took a lot of pestering, but it was worth the effort. Once, in an attempt to convince Draco that the Forbidden Forest was, in fact, not a place to be wandering after curfew, Snape told him of the time in sixth year he snuck into the Forest in search of Flitterbloom, a rare plant. He was deep in the Forest when he heard screaming, and rushed forward to find a young centauress cornered by a wolffin. With magic, he was easily able to scare the beast off, though the noise had attracted a herd of centaurs. It was then, his godfather said, he was in actual danger. For the centaurs believed Snape had been with the centauress as some kind of romantic outing. Draco was disgusted, but Snape seemed amused by the whole affair, and was particularly proud of the fact that the Headmaster never found about his many excursions into the Forbidden Forest.

Lucius Malfoy never appeared in any of the stories his godfather told either.

Draco threw his quill down, scowling as ink splattered over the opening paragraph on his essay. The truth was he could use his godfather's advice. Ever since he had returned for the summer holiday, his mother had been acting off. She was short with his father and impatient with the house-elves. Some days she would wander around the Manor looking as if she hadn't slept, and other days she wouldn't get out of bed at all. Last night, after listening to Ahlgrim's speech on the WNN, his mother took him to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. She remained silent as he worked his way through a sundae, and when he asked if she was going to have some ice cream as well, she burst into tears, right there in the middle of Diagon Alley. Mortified, Draco had no choice but to use a Portkey to take them home.

He wondered if his mother was pregnant again.

When Draco was six, his father had called him into his study, a room that, until then was strictly forbidden to him. His father had told them he was getting to be a big boy and that his father had a very important job for him: soon he was going to be a big brother. Draco was ecstatic over the idea of a playmate, and though ill, his mother was the happiest he had ever seen her. One of the numerous guest rooms was redecorated in pale pinks and yellows and Draco helped pick out the soft toys that covered the shelves.

Then one night, the Healers came. Draco recognized them from when he had been sent to St. Mungo's after he caught dragon pox. Back then, they had given him a lolly and patted him on the head; now they looked worried and their arms were laden with potions. The next morning his father ordered the house elves to change the pink room back into a guest chamber. His little sister was never mentioned again, and even though he didn't understand what had happened at the time, he knew it was a question he could not ask.

Seizing a fresh piece of parchment, Draco came to a decision and scrawled _Dear Severus_ across the top. Snape had forbidden him to call him anything other than "Professor" during school, but the holidays were another story. Even though he had made the decision to write to his godfather, that did not make the words come any easier. After several scratched out paragraphs, Draco decided a walk in the garden was in order. Normally, he would have taken his _Nimbus_ for a spin over the Quidditch pitch, but his mother suddenly didn't want him flying after dark. If she wouldn't let him play on the Slytherin Team, he'd have to get his father involved. There was no way he was going to let Potter and the Gryffindor Team take the Quidditch Cup again.

The pitch was located in the north garden, so Draco headed the opposite way- if his mother should happen to see him he didn't want her to think he was going against her wishes. The path was lit with bioluminescent azaleas and the chirping of crickets could be heard. He had just turned the corner when he heard the whip-like crack of Apparation.

Draco froze. No one, except for his father, was able to Apparate onto the property. His father had Apparated into the water surrounding the south fountain- a gleaming marble dragon that spewed water out of its mouth. His father's face was burned, bleeding and patches of his hair were singed off. Another Death Eater was holding him upright. Seeing that his father was hurt, Draco made to rush forward- until he saw his father's face. There was so much hate- so much rage that for the first time in his life Draco was afraid of his own father. He crouched behind some rose bushes. His sleeve caught on some brambles, snapping a stem. The Death Eater glanced his way, and for a second Draco was sure he had been spotted, but the Death Eater shaking his head, looked away.

_Aurors_, Draco thought, clenching his fists. _Aurors have hurt my father._

'You should consider yourself fortunate you weren't killed.' The Death Eater said as he removed his mask. Draco recognised the voice instantly: Snape.

'Fortune that had nothing to do with you.' His father's sneer rivaled Snape at his most scornful.

'You expect me to defend you? To stand against the Dark Lord?' Snape abruptly released his hold on his father, who fell into the shallow water with a splash. 'He was right to punish you, you have become complacent. Because of Ahlgrim, the public will be on guard and the Dark Lord will be unable to advance His great work.' Snape leaned forward over the fallen body of Dracos's father. 'You're lucky the Dark Lord needs you alive... and able. If not you would soon find yourself envious of the Longbottoms.' Snape straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. 'You may need your life and mind to continue your campaign, but you do not need a son. The Dark has not forgotten this fact. Nor have I,' Snape added as he stepped out of the fountain and dried his robes with a flick of his wand.

Draco shrunk back. He thought of the letter on his desk -_Dear Severus-_ and feared he might be sick.

Snarling, Lucius raised his wand, but Snape disarmed him without a word or backward glance, sending the wand flying onto the cobblestone path. Snape leveled his wand at Lucius with a casual, almost disinterested air. 'Your actions as of late are making me doubt your loyalty. Bellatrix has sacrificed her freedom; years she has spent in Azkaban because she would not renounce her Lord. Selwynn killed his Mudblood wife and Squib daughter to prove his allegiance. And you Lucius...' Snape took a scornful glance at the palatial surroundings. 'What have _you_ given up? What have _you_ sacrificed? If you wish for me to be your ally, I have to know your loyalties are true. If the Dark Lord commanded it, would you be willing to sacrifice Narcissa, hmm? Or Draco?'

There was silence. Draco realised he was holding his breath.

'I.. of course I would.' Lucius pulled himself out of the fountain and staggered over to his wand. Snape arched an eyebrow, but he only used it to dry his robes. 'You forget yourself, Snape. I have been in the Dark Lord's confidence for much longer than you!' Lucius spat. 'His Mark on my arm before I even graduated from Hogwarts. My father, Abraxas was among His closest friends. A Death Eater before the name itself was-'

Snape didn't bother to contain his snort. 'It's a good thing the accomplishments of your ancestors are so _relevant_, otherwise your argument would have little ground to stand on.' His voice dripped with sarcastic derision. He brusquely pushed past Lucius and made his way down the path, stopping mere metres from Draco's hiding spot. 'The boy will be expected to take the Mark soon. Given his present level of skill, he will not last more than a week. Perhaps you should do something to remedy that.' And then Snape walked away and was swallowed up in the darkness. Even with Snape gone, Draco dared not approach his father.

There was the clacking of heeled boots on the stone pathway and Draco's mother rushed past and wrapped her arms around his father, just as Lucius's strength finally gave out. With a deft wave of her wand, she cast a Feather-Light Charm to lessen her burden. 'Oh, my love…' Her fingers hovered above the grotesque burn on his father's face, eyes full of tears she quickly blinked away. 'Can you walk?' Her voice was little more than a whisper, as if his father was so fragile, so close to being broken that even a loud noise might cause him pain.

'Yes,' he rasped, and took a hesitant step forward, he stumbled, but strong arms kept him upright.

'I'll send for Evander he'll be able to…' Narcissa cast a despairing look at the myriad of wounds, and left her thought unfinished.

Draco, holding his breath, waited until the pair had turned the corner and then counted to a hundred in his head before he emerged from his hiding place. He glanced around uneasily at the looming shadows, half-expecting Snape to ambush him. Draco peered around the fountain, then frowned.

Between the dragon's magnificent claws was a plaque bearing the Malfoy family motto: _Invicta_, but something about the plaque looked… off. Draco took a tentative step forward, squinting in the darkness. The plaque was smeared with blood. His _father's_ blood.

His heart was hammering in his chest and Draco took off at a run, not caring about the direction; _away_ was the only place he wished to go. Somewhere far, far away. He only slowed slightly when he reached the sprawling hedge maze west of the manor. He had explored the maze enough as a child to reach the clearing in the center without hitting any dead ends. There was a small fountain and a bench flanked by pot plants. He knew he would not be found there. Panting, Draco sat on the ground and leaned his head against the bench.

The Dark Lord had tortured his father. He couldn't understand it. Sure, the Dark Lord killed people- Muggles, Mudbloods and blood traitors, but that was to preserve the wizarding world, to stop the pollution of non-magic kind. Draco ran his hand across his face and was shocked to find tears. His boggart, the one he had faced in the werewolf's class was himself, Knutless and poor. But now he had found something far more terrifying. The Dark Lord, the most powerful wizard alive, had hurt his father. And his father was going to let the same thing happen to Draco. For years, ever since Draco could remember, he had been told about the road that lay before him. Except his father had lied about where the road lead.

He started, his blood running cold as he realised that this was the reason for his mother's strange behavior. She was scared, terrified for she too knew the truth of the Dark Lord and what it would be like to be in His service. And she had said nothing. He thought of the countless sweets she sent him while he was at Hogwarts, tucking him in at night when he was a little kid, the bone-crushing hug she had given him when he had stepped off the Hogwarts Express that summer. All those years and she had said nothing.

Draco turned and vomited into the pot plant.

He heaved until there was nothing left and his stomach hurt with the effort. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and leaned back against the bench, craning his neck so he could look up at the countless pinpricks of light dotting the night sky. He'd pay Vincent Crabbe a visit, he decided. He hadn't seen his friend at the start of the holiday. In the morning he'd grab his Nimbus and fly over to Crabbe's (after leaving a note for his mother, of course). Maybe he could convince Crabbe to let him stay over for a few days. Draco scowled. He could not tell Crabbe what he had learned though. For if he told Crabbe, Crabbe would tell his father who in turn would tell _Draco's_ father. Draco crossed his arms against a sudden chill. Nor could he tell Goyle, or even Pansy. Though truthfully he wasn't even sure if Pansy was speaking to _him_. On the train ride home, Pansy had gotten into a row with her friend Tracey and apparently because he didn't kick her out of the compartment it meant he sided with Tracey. Or something.

He kicked a pebble with his boot. There was no one he could share his discovery with. In this matter he was completely and utterly alone. Draco yanked up his left sleeve and stared at his forearm. The light of the moon reflected off white, unblemished skin.


	12. A Meeting of the Minds

AN: As always, thanks to my beta and britpicker, Charlio and Clumsy Ninjable. Both of you guys are awesome! Also, thanks for all those who read, review, favorite and or follow my story.

AN2: For those who are into TV Tropes, the website that chronicles tropes and how they are used in all types of fiction, you will be excited to learn I'm working on a TV Tropes page for The Gossamer Web! However, before I post it to TV Tropes I want to ensure there is adequate interest in both The Gossamer Web and the idea of putting it on TV Tropes, so I will post the page once this story has 100 reviews. Please, let me know what you think of the idea in your reviews! (And don't forget to review the story too!)

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Chapter Twelve: A Meeting of the Minds

_'One need not be a chamber to be haunted;_

_One need not be a house;_

_The brain has corridors surpassing_

_Material place.'_

_ -Emily Dickinson_

* * *

When Hailey exited the Ministry of Magic via the lift to Muggle London, she was met by a familiar face. Professor Snape, wearing a long Muggle coat and trousers (she was beginning to doubt the man had clothing in any other colour), was leaning against the wall of the adjacent pub, reading a Muggle newspaper. She started to cross the street to meet him when Professor Snape abruptly turned on his heel and headed down a nearby alley. Glancing around to ensure no one was paying her any particular attention, Hailey followed him.

The night before she had a long conversation with Albus, explaining her desire to meet with the Order of the Phoenix. As close as she was with Albus, part of her wondered if such a request was presumptuous. But he had readily agreed, and with a twinkle in his eye said he would ensure that this time she arrived at the Headquarters she would be conscious; evidently, he had heard of Moody's stunt. Despite the Headmaster's reassurance, she glanced around the dingy alleyway warily. The belligerent expression Professor Snape wore did not make her feel any more at ease. 'What you did was monumentally stupid.' Snape said by way of greeting.

Hailey stopped in her tracks. 'Pardon?'

'The press conference. Announcing the Dark Lord's return. It was beyond idiotic.'

She grit her teeth. After her campaign manager had seen the headlines, Miss Ruggles had been the saying the same thing. Hailey had gone from being neck and neck with Malfoy in the polls, to trailing behind Professor Allgood. Most of the media had promptly declared Hailey crazy, the most favourable article had merely called her, 'grossly mistaken.' Still, she attempted to stand her ground. 'The public needed to know. It wasn't right for Fudge to keep them in the dark like that!'

Snape lead her around cardboard boxes from the pub and piles of garbage until they were well concealed behind a skip. 'What you did may have very likely cost you the election. Was it worth Lucius Malfoy being the next Minister?'

Hailey looked away. 'Maybe,' her voice was quieter than she liked. 'If it prevents another King's Cross Massacre.'

He was silent and for a brief second she thought he almost looked sympathetic. Then he grabbed her arm and the world around her spun into blackness. He Apparated them onto a quiet street in a Muggle neighbourhood. 'Your head, Ahlgrim.'

She raised her hand to her hair wondering if she had accidentally lost some hair or an ear in the abrupt Side-along-Apparation. 'What about my head?'

'You're supposed to think with it,' Snape said with a sneer.

Hailey pursed her lips. The worst part was that she could not come up with a suitable retort. One that wasn't completely juvenile anyway.

Snape thrust a slip of parchment into her hand. 'Memorise it.' She barely had time to read the note (in Albus's handwriting) before he lit the parchment with the tip of his wand.

'A Fidelius Charm, I assume,' Hailey said as Number Twelve Grimmauld Place appeared before them.

'And a host of others.' After unlocking the door with his wand, Snape lead her quickly through the front parlour. 'Hurry up, you're late.' She followed him through several dark and empty rooms. While the rooms was freshly cleaned, the doxie-eaten tapestry, faded rugs and chipped armoire told the story of a home long abandoned, or of a family who had fallen on hard times. The kitchen, however, was bursting with enough life and light to make up for the rest of the house. The long table was set in preparation of a hearty meal: a cauldron of soup, bowls of steaming vegetables, shepherd's pie and a basket of buttery rolls, just to mention a few. A group of red-haired teenagers were playing Gobstones on the floor, while the Auror Tonks sat at the table reading _Witch Weekly_. A wizard she vaguely recognized from the Ministry was chatting with Albus. She spotted Moody, whose magical eye focused on her while he continued to talk with a group of wizards, deep in conversation. Elphias Doge, Special Advisor to the Wizengamot, was warming his gnarled feet by the hearth. In all, Hailey estimated there were about two dozen witches and wizards gathered, excluding the children. Her heart sank; she had thought the Order of the Phoenix was larger than that.

His duty complete, Snape abandoned her to have a word with Albus. Moody was the only one who had noticed her and Hailey was just debating whether she should formally introduce herself to the group or just quietly take a seat at the table when a wizard carrying a bowl of mashed potatoes bumped into her.

'Sorry-'

She turned to tell him it was quite all right and froze. She was staring at none other than the Death Eater, mass murderer and Azkaban escapee Sirius Black. Hailey opened her mouth, but no noise escaped.

'Speechless?' Black grinned widely. 'Not to worry, a common reaction. I _am_ a handsome devil, aren't I?'

The ridiculousness of Voldemort's right-hand-man flirting with her galvanized her into action. She whipped out her wand. _'Stupefy!'_ Black fell forward, his face landing into the bowl of potatoes.

The kitchen fell silent, every eye on her. She kept her wand raised, looking to Auror Tonks or Shacklebolt for help, but both were staring at her as if she were mad. Snape was unable to suppress a snort of amusement. Hailey took a deep, shuddering breath. 'That's... that's Sirius Black...'

A red-haired witch patted her arm (Hailey jumped) and attempted to hand her a cup of tea. 'Of course he is, dear.'

She kept her wand trained on the fugitive. 'Albus,' she fought to keep her voice calm, 'would you be so kind as to tell me why one of the most wanted wizards in Britain was invited to dinner?' A thought occurred to her and she glanced at the prone body by her feet. 'Was he under the Imperius Curse?' She had not heard that Black had asserted anything of the sort at his trial, but then again such cases were hardly predictable.

An ill-looking wizard in worn robes shook his head. 'No, Sirius simply didn't do it. He was framed.'

Albus nodded. 'Remus is quite right. Look at his arm. Sirius was never a servant of Voldemort, willing or unwilling.'

Hailey knelt down and pushed back the left sleeve of Black's robes: there was no mark. 'Perhaps an Obliteration Charm...' she shook her head. The magic used to sear the Dark Mark onto the flesh of Voldemort's servants was perverse and terrible; it would have taken more than a simple charm to disguise it. While the precise magic of the Dark Mark was unknown, Aurors had yet to discover a spell by which the Mark could be disguised. But still she was having difficulty wrapping her head around the fact that the Ministry, _her_ Ministry, could have made such a mistake. Then she thought of Cornelius Fudge and of Dolores Umbridge. Hailey got to her feet. '_Rennervate._'

Black sat up and wiped the potatoes from his eyes. 'I hope while I was out Dumbledore explained how very, _very_ innocent I am?' He attempted a winning smile, but his anxiousness shone in his eyes.

Hailey pointed her wand at Black (he flinched). '_Tergeo_.' The potatoes stuck to his face and in his hair vanished.

Moody scowled. 'And no one listened when I said inviting her was a terrible idea.'

Esteemed veteran or not, Hailey was finding herself liking the wizard less and less. Shoving her wand back into her robes she turned to Moody. 'This is the perfect illustration of why I _needed _to come,' she said, gesturing to Black. 'If I am to-'

The red-haired witch cut her off with a clap of her hands. 'Fred, George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione, out.' Hailey glanced to the corner; she had not even noticed that Harry Potter was there. 'Serve yourselves some supper and then off to your rooms. I'll fetch you when it's time for afters.' Grumbling, the children piled their plates high with food and sulked off, the twins in particular, dragging their feet.

Black did not bother waiting for the door to shut before speaking. 'She's right,' he set the bowl of now inedible potatoes on the counter. 'If we want her help, we have to keep her in the loop, and I think we can use all the help we can get. Even slimy crooks from Knockturn Alley are useful, right Dung?' A wizard with stringy hair and yellow teeth grunted in agreement before returning his attention back to his tankard.

Albus motioned for everyone to take a seat at the table. Hailey noticed Black was quick to slide onto the bench next to her. Perhaps he was eager to make up for the fright he had given her, or more likely he recognised that as an Elder on the Wizengamot she would be a handy ally in sorting out his legal difficulties. Either way, he passed the basket of rolls to her with a smile. She murmured her thanks but couldn't help but feel a tad cross. She was grateful for the influence she held in the Ministry, in the ability she had to help others, but sometimes she wished others sought to befriend her without an ulterior motive. Hailey was close to many of the wizards and witches she worked with, she knew Lawrence Ware, Barbados's Mugwump, considered her family, but even around him she could not truly remove her mien of professionalism. She could hardly blame Black, though. If a bit of flirting was all that was keeping _her_ from being sent to Azkaban, she would have worn a robe that displayed some cleavage.

The red-headed wizard reached across the table and shook her hand enthusiastically. 'Welcome to the Order, Miss Ahlgrim. I'm Arthur Weasley. I work at the Ministry.'

Weasley. Now she remembered. He worked in the Improper Use of Magic Office. He also helped write the Muggle Protection Act. Except...

Hailey deliberately set her silverware down. 'I have no intention of joining the Order of the Phoenix.' The pronouncement brought everyone's attention to her. She found Professor Snape's piercing stare especially unnerving. Even Albus glanced up from his pumpkin juice.

When she was a little girl, Albus Dumbledore was a frequent visitor to her home. Her father was a renown Arithmancer and her mother was a shrewd investor whose warmth and quick wit always made her the star of the galas and benefits she hosted. The visits increased drastically after her mother and brother died. During one particular visit, one of her father's cauldrons exploded suddenly and Hailey discovered that the Headmaster was a very difficult man to startle. She soon made a game out of it, jumping out from under tables, behind chairs doing whatever she could to surprise the wizard. Sometimes Albus pretended to be startled, but his surprise was always so exaggerated even she knew it was fake. Though it was now decades later Hailey found she had to suppress the urge to award herself a point on the rare occasions she did something Albus had not anticipated.

Snape raised a thick eyebrow. 'You do not want to accept the risks inherent in being part of the Order, and yet you expect us to hand over all our secrets?'

Hailey knew whatever goodwill the Order had towards her was rapidly dwindling and rushed to reassure them. 'If I was able to join I would, in a heartbeat, but I simply cannot. As an Elder of the Wizengamot it is unlawful of me to join an organization that "subverts or undermines the laws, rules and regulations of the Ministry of Magic."'

A wizard with a square jaw and straw hair snorted. 'You think we're trying to overthrow the Ministry? We're _fighting _the Death Eaters! _They're_ the ones who want to take over the Ministry.'

'I know.' Hailey assured him, 'but can you, can _any_ of you gathered here tonight tell me that in pursuit of that goal you haven't broken the law?'

The Order members glanced at each other, some looking rather uncomfortable, but no one attempted to contradict her. After a moment the curly-haired witch raised her hand shyly. Remus whispered something in her ear. The witch blushed, mumbled 'oh, right,' and dropped her hand.

Moody drew his wand and, propping his elbow on the table, causally aimed it at her. 'So you're here just to tell us to stand aside and let the Ministry get on with it, then? They don't even believe You-Know-Who is back!'

'That is not my intention at all!' Hailey said firmly.

Moody's mouth curled into a snarl. His face was hard. 'You've got some nerve-'

'Let her speak, Alastor.' The Headmaster's voice was soft, but as firm as Moody's was loud. Those gathered around the table were silent, unsure how to move pass the awkwardness.

'So, Miss Ahlgrim,' Elphias regarded her calmly over his steaming cup of tea. 'If you are not here because you wish to join the Order, what is the reason for your visit?'

Hailey gave him a brief smile, relieved to move on from Moody's outburst. There were many things she appreciated about Elphias Doge, but if she had to name only one, it was his levelheadedness. 'What made the War...' she frowned and amended, 'what made the _First_ War such as dark and terrible time for England were not only the actions of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and His Death Eaters, it was the actions of the Ministry as well. In its zeal to bring Him and His Death Eaters to justice, the Aurors powers became unchecked. Unforgiveables were permitted. Wizards were interrogated, detained on no more than rumours.' She took a deep breath. 'And the Wizengamot was no better. Conducting trials behind closed doors-'

Sirius Black crossed his arms. 'Or sending people to Azkaban with no trial at all.'

Hailey regarded him sharply. Well, that certainly explained some things. When Black had escaped from Azkaban, Hailey had been asked by the investigating Aurors to unseal the trial records, including Pensieve records, in hopes that they might point the Aurors towards one of Black's allies or towards a possible hiding place. However the Aurors had overestimated her authority. Even as a Wizengamot Elder, she was not privy to the testimony of the captured Death Eaters such as Sirius Black or Igor Karkaroff. She had passed the matter on to Madam Bones and had assumed the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had given them the records. This was a matter that required immediate investigation. If these allegations were true...

She was not some wide-eyed idealist, no matter what Fudge may think. Hailey knew well the Ministry's faults and shortcomings. The Ministry was made up of wizards and witches and thus was fallible. Not everyone was in it for the common good. Some were in it for greed, some for personal aspirations and some just because they could not think of what else to do as a career. Hailey was an optimist though, and liked to think that most people, at their core, were well intentioned. That belief had been taking quite a few blows in the past few months- a bureaucrat had tried to chop off her head for Merlin's sake- and these allegations were just another blow.

'And send wizards off to Azkaban without a trial at all,' Hailey echoed in agreement. 'You all are doing England a tremendous service. If it were not for the Order the War would have ended very differently, if it had ended at all. But I am here to caution you as well. Do not think that because you are acting outside of the bounds of the Ministry that you are outside of the reach of her laws. If I hear of any of you using the kinds of tactics that made Bartimus Crouch's Aurors a terror to both the guilty and the innocent, I _will_ lay charges against you and vote you as guilty.'

'_This_ is what you've come here to do?' Moody roared outraged as he leapt to his feet. 'To order us to be good little lads and lasses, to use nothing stronger than a Tickling Charm? In spite of all those they've tortured? All those they've killed? Your own mother and brother were-'

'_Enough_!'

The Headmaster was soundly ignored.

'Thirty-four.' The words tumbled out of her so fast she had to struggle to make herself intelligible. 'That is the number of wizards and witches who were discovered to have been under the Imperius Curse rather than in league with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Thirty-four in all. But for all but eight that discovery was made posthumously.' She would not stand for this man to bring up the deaths of Charles and her mother for nothing more than an attempt to win a row. Hailey rose to her feet so she could meet Moody's eyes with a steely glare of her own. 'This included a suspected perpetrator of the King's Cross Massacre. He committed suicide after the Curse was released and he had learnt what he had done. Don't you _ever_ act like I am ignorant of what He and His Death Eaters have done.'

'That's quite enough, both of you,' Albus said firmly.

Alastor righted his chair and collapsed heavily into his seat.

Hailey sat down as well, the jangling in her pocket reminding her of her other objective. She cleared her throat. 'I may be unable to assist the Order directly, but it is my wish to aid you however I can.' She withdrew a bag from her robes, releasing the Shrinking Spell she had placed on it for convenience, and dropped it on the table. The musical _clinks_ the bag made when it landed on the wood table revealed its contents as Galleons, and not a small number of them. 'Dung' peered at the bag over the rim of his mug, his bloodshot eyes suddenly alert, like a hound who had caught scent of its prey. Elphias Doge removed the temptation by taking the sack out of reach and calmly setting it down next to his tea. Hailey was unsure of precisely what sort of expenses the Order of the Phoenix incurred, but she guessed that donations collected from the members would hardly be sufficient.

'Splendid!' A wizard in a top hat squeaked. 'We can use that to purchase-'

Hailey held up her hand. 'I don't want to know.' She shook her head and rephrased, 'No, I _can't_ know. The less I know the better.' She looked at all those gathered, the brave souls who alone were standing against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and His Death Eaters. 'I recognize a few of you,' she nodded at Arthur Weasley, 'and I've met a couple of you before,' she indicated Professor Snape and the two Aurors. 'Whatever roles you have, however you are helping the Order I must be ignorant of,' she bit her lip. 'I have many secrets I must keep already,' she said, thinking of all the sensitive information she had accumulated during her years on the International Confederation of Wizards, the cases she had dealt with as a Wizengamot Elder, 'I do not wish to have any more.'

Auror Shacklebolt nodded, seemingly satisfied, and Snape seemed to relax marginally. The witch with dark hair who had raised her hand earlier grinned, somewhat embarrassed. 'Not that I'm doing anything dark and mysterious.' She held up a plate of chocolate biscuits. 'I just run a bakery.'

'Nonsense, Hestia.' The wizard- Remus smiled, taking a large bite from a roll. 'You and your talents are invaluable. In fact I suggest we use the funds Miss Ahlgrim provided to buy every biscuit, crumpet and scone in your store.'

The group laughed and Hailey smiled, the tension easing from her body. It was imperative that she and the Order get along; the struggles they faced were dark and difficult enough without fighting amongst themselves.

With business out of the way, dinner began in earnest, with the group keeping conversation light with discussions of the latest Quidditch match and gossip. Hailey was having a lovely conversation with Professor McGonagall about the intricacies of Untransfiguration when the object had been bewitched multiple times. The only thing that was spoiling the delicious food and pleasant conversation was the headache she was rapidly developing.

She propped her elbow on the table and massaged her temple. It was difficult to concentrate on what McGonagall was saying; Hailey's mind seemed to be all over the place. A sharp pang brought the realization that she wasn't experiencing a headache. Someone was trying to break into her mind. Hailey slammed her eyes shut and cleared her mind, erasing all emotion: all fear, all sadness, all hate, all love, all joy, all- Only when the fortifications around her mind were strengthened did she open her eyes and warily scan the table.

Hailey had never been particularly adept at Occlumency. In her line of work Legilimency was far more helpful, never had she encountered someone trying to force their way into-

Snape's head was bent, seemingly focused on his meal, but his dark eyes were piercing hers. Hailey slammed against his wards desperate to make him retreat, but he was a far stronger Occlumens than she had ever encountered. Snape sensed this as well- his lips curled upwards. She could feel her shields shake as her panic grew. Again she pushed away all thought and simply focused on withstanding the impending onslaught.

Then there was a terrible _crash_ of a vase falling to the floor. Hailey dropped her wards in shock. Snape's concentration broke as well. The effect was that of a piece of elastic that had been pulled taut, and suddenly released. Their minds slammed together, the force propelling their bodies forward, then back, sending her flying out of her seat and colliding painfully with the wall. Stars danced in front of her eyes, then colours and shapes and sounds as she was swallowed in a sea of memories not her own.

It was dark; there was rain, wind and a clap of thunder- no it was a door slamming. A teenaged Snape was storming out a house, a small building in disrepair with a yard full of dead, brown grass and scraps of metal and junk. He glanced behind him and Hailey followed his gaze through the front window. A man and a woman were arguing, or more precisely the man was screaming at the woman. He raised his fist and with brutal force struck his wife in the face. Snape tensed, and then forced himself to turn forward and walk away, turning the collar of his too-short coat up against the icy wind.

The memory changed and Hailey found herself in Dumbledore's office with the Headmaster and a Snape who looked much more like the one she knew, though at that moment he was pacing the office like a caged dragon, his jaw tense and eyes hard. Albus too appeared sombre. With a sinking feeling Hailey glanced at the calendar on the wall. It was the 24th of June, the night of the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament, the night He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned.

'-thought if he could see it with his own eyes he'd believe it,' Snape was saying, 'but that _fool_-' Snape halted for a moment and then resumed his furious pacing. 'He can't keep that memory. Even if he does not believe the truth of the Dark Lord's return, his knowledge of me could be ruinous to us all.'

Albus held up a hand. 'Of that you need not be concerned. I performed a Memory Charm on Cornelius before he left the castle.'

Hailey's eyes were wide. Albus wiped something from the mind of Cornelius Fudge? The Minister for Magic? What had he erased? The fact that Snape was a member of the Order of the Phoenix?

But before she could learn more, the memory changed. She was outside, the sun bright above her. She was near a pond, the tall grass swaying lazily in the summer breeze as dragonflies skittered about. An Alsatian ran past followed by a young Snape and a girl his age. She had long red hair and brilliant green eyes and imbued the aura of summer. Though they were both in the midst of adolescent awkwardness, Hailey could tell the girl would be beautiful someday. She wore a dress the colour of fresh cut grass, a floppy straw hat and carried her sandals in one hand and a fishing pole in the other. Snape, by contrast, reminded her of winter with his pale skin, long black coat and black trousers. He hadn't grown into his hooked nose yet and looked far too serious for his age.

'-so then Alice told me that Frank actually doesn't fancy Florence at all! According to Victoria- you know, the Hufflepuff who turned Sirius's hair pink? Well, she said that Frank went to Hogsmeade with Florence just so she'd stop pestering him!' She stopped and glanced behind her. 'Sev, are you listening at all?'

Snape jerked his head up guiltily. ''Course I'm listening.' Hailey started in surprise. Snape's voice was quite different than the one she was used to. She had thought Snape had grown up in the city with his London accent, but the voice he had now belonged to someone from Nottingham.

The girl set her rod down and turned to Snape, putting her hands on her hips. 'Are you okay? You've been acting off ever since we got here.'

'What? No, I'm fine, Lily. _Really_.' Snape glanced about frantically liked a cornered Kneazle.

Hailey noticed his faint blush and so had a very good idea why Snape was acting 'off.'

Lily frowned doubtfully. 'Sev, if I didn't know any better I'd say you-'

But Snape never let her finish her sentence. He darted forward and snatched the hat from her head and ran off into the grass, the dog barking at his heels.

Laughing, Lily gave chase.

The colours about her swirled and faded.

Snape, now in his early twenties, was charging up a decrepit staircase in what looked to be an abandoned house. His wand was out and he looked terrified. Somewhere a cruel voice of a witch called out in a singsong voice, 'You can run, but you can't hide!'

He tore down a narrow hallway toward a door that hung ajar. Bursting through the door, Snape came to an immediate halt. Hailey froze.

A wizard with black, shaggy hair, grey eyes and haughty face stood in the centre of the room. One hand held his wand, the other held the white mask of a Death Eater. A flick of his wand and the door behind Snape slammed shut.

'Regulus,' Snape's lips were curled into a snarl.

'Severus, I've been expecting you,' the wizard took a menacing step forward. 'I do believe,' Regulus said with regret that, to Hailey's surprise actually sounded genuine, 'that only one us shall leave this room alive.'

She was in another memory. Hailey wasn't corporeal, but she could sense she was in a confined space. She waved her hand in front of her face, but was unable to see it. There was a rustle to her left, a scraping sound, boots perhaps, and then a thud. '-don't trust him worth a damn. but Black seemed worried.' Snape fell silent, waiting for a response. 'Lily? Are you in here?'

There was a muttered spell and a ruby glowed in Snape's hand, illuminating the cramped space. They were in a dirt tunnel, and even though Snape was younger than he was in the previous memory (he was wearing his school robes) and hadn't hit his growth spurt yet, he had to stoop to avoid hitting his head. 'Are you there?'

Silence.

'Shit.' Snape kicked the wall in frustration. 'I swear I'm going to kill Black one day,' he muttered, 'bloody liar.' Just as he was about to turn though, something seemed to catch his eye. He threw the stone down the tunnel, sending it skidding across the dirt until it landed on something soft. Snape and Hailey squinted at the object. It was a girl's jumper. Stained with something dark.

Just then there was an inhuman shriek, a cry of pure torture, a horrible animalistic howl- Hailey jumped, fighting every instinct to run, even in a memory.

'_LILY!' _It was somewhere between a shout and a scream, and Snape, torn between the unknown horror that lay before him and the safety that lay behind ran forward stumbling over the bloodstained jumper. Hailey tried to follow, but the shapes began to swirl together, the sounds of footsteps, howls and screams becoming muddled and distorted, fading into a grey mist.

Sounds began to emerge, real sounds, sounds from the present and not from the past.

_'-happened?'_

_'SHAME OF MY FLESH! TRAITORS OF BLOOD!'_

_'-shut the hag up!'_

It was like awaking from an especially vivid dream. She had crumpled indignantly against the wall and her emerald robes had ridden up over her knees. A mob of concerned faces swam in her vision. A hand reached towards her, and she had a flash of instinct, a memory, curled up in a corner, a man with a hooked nose and cruel eyes, a fist.

_'Don't touch me!' _She shrieked, flinching away. Auror Shacklebolt took a step back, though his dark eyes examined her face with concern. She tugged her robes down sheepishly. There was no reason for her to be scared of him. 'Sorry,' she mumbled. It was like waking up from a nightmare, except it was real, the fears and horrors were real, but they did not belong to her. Hailey sat up blearily. 'How long was I out?' It felt like it had been hours.

Auror Shacklebolt frowned. 'Just a few seconds, actually.'

'Is she Confounded?' Tonks asked him, before yelling over her shoulder, 'What the hell did you do, Snape?'

The question spoke volumes of how Professor Snape was viewed by the Order. It could have just as easily have been her doing something to _him_, but the thought seemed to have occurred to no one. She leaned to her right so she could see Snape between a gap in the circle around her. The table was in the way, but she was able to see a bit of him. It appeared he had the unfortunate luck of colliding with the china cabinet. Only Professor McGonagall was by his side.

Auror Tonks snorted and crossed her arms. 'Well?' She pressed.

'Um…' Hailey floundered. She was loathed to divulge her ability as a Legillimens. Such magic was not illegal, but the practice of such magic was frowned upon and its practitioners viewed with suspicion. Hailey did not use Legillimency lightly. She only used it as a Wizengamot Elder, or in situations where not knowing the truth would have dire repercussions, like when had interviewed Harry Potter.

'I'm sure it was just an accident...' the red-haired witch was spelling the broken vase together, the source of the crash that had disrupted both her and Professor Snape's concentration and had caused the whole mess in the first place.

Arthur helped Hailey to her feet.

Snape was on his feet as well and regarded her disdainfully. Hailey felt out of sorts looking at him. She had seen several Snapes, each at a different point in his life and she had glimpsed parts of him she had no right to see. Through a spell gone wrong she had come to know more about the man than (she was willing to wager) most of the Order. 'For a witch who was so eager to assure us how important it was that you not know of our activities,' Snape said silkily, 'I find it intriguing that you neglected to mention you are versed in the arts of Legillimency.'

The Mind Arts, Legillimency and Occlumency, though useful, were obscure and difficult to master, so most of the looks directed to Hailey were ones of confusion, rather than accusation. The two Aurors glanced at each other.

'Legillimency, eh?' Auror Tonks sounded impressed.

'What's Legillimency?' Hestia asked.

Hailey pursed her lips, even though the question was not directed towards her.

In the end it was Professor McGonagall who answered. 'Legillimency is the magical art of extracting emotions and memories from another person's mind. It can also be used to determine if someone is telling the truth, or lying.'

'And if Snape knows Ahlgrim is a Legillimens,' Moody glared at Snape, 'that means he is one too.'

Given the looks that were exchanged among the Order, Hailey realised that Snape's status as a Legillimens had been a secret up to this point as well.

Sirius Black meanwhile looked like he had been slapped in the face with a fish.

Perhaps Professor Snape was feeling the weight of all the stares too, for he strode forward and seized her arm. 'Ahlgrim, I think you and I need to have a little chat, if you'd be so kind...'

She shook her arm out of his grasp, but followed him to the door. As furious as he was, she could see the anger simmering just below the surface, Hailey knew he was right. She needed to find out what he had glimpsed in her memories.

'Severus,' Professor McGonagall frowned, 'I don't think...'

'It's quite all right.' Hailey assured her, though truthfully she wasn't certain at this point. Hailey was not going to bother asking him _why_ he had attempted to peer into her mind in the first place. He had every right to be suspicious of her, she had seen their Headquarters and Snape had to ensure she wasn't a Death Eater or one of their agents. Though honestly, he didn't have to be so rude about it. She gladly would have allowed them to use Veritaserum to confirm her loyalties.

Snape grabbed her arm, pushed her through the door and slammed it behind him.

The children who had been dismissed earlier (and who had been crowded around the door) all jumped to their feet.

'_GET OUT_!' Snape roared.

They did not need to be told twice. The children abandoned their half-finished plates and clambered up the stairs so fast they tripped over themselves in the process. Doors slammed shut, but Hailey still thought the children might try to eavesdrop so drew her wand. '_Imperturbatus_,' she murmured, pointing it to the door behind them and in the direction of the doors upstairs.

With the Privacy Charm in place, she turned to suggest they seat themselves in the armchairs flanking the fire when Snape whipped out his wand. Hailey barely managed to duck just in time and the shouted spell, '_Obliviate_!' flew over her head, missing by a scant inch.

Clutching her wand, she performed a Bubble-Head Charm. It wasn't a shielding spell by any means, but it would prevent Memory Charms from hitting their mark. '_What in Merlin's name are you doing_?' she screamed. Part of her was beyond amazed that she had reacted so quickly and credited it to years of broomstick racing as a young witch. The rest of her was shocked at Snape's behaviour.

Snape seethed. 'What did you see?'

Her hand tightened on her wand. 'Not whatever it is you are so afraid of.'

His eyes narrowed dangerously and he stepped forward. '_Afr_-'

'I saw nothing important, I swear. She held up her hands in a placating gesture as she barrelled on with the lie, searching desperately for memories she _knew_ he would have had. 'Just of you teaching a class, writing an essay in your common room when you were a student, watching a Quidditch game and wandering about Diagon Alley!' As furious as she was, Hailey felt a stab of sympathy. There were parts of her, all the secrets she had to keep, many things she would be fearful of a stranger knowing.

He lowered his wand, though Hailey wasn't foolish enough to believe it made him any less likely to use it. Her Bubble-Head Charm remained firmly in place. 'And I don't suppose you'd let me perform Legillimency to ensure that you are, in fact, being truthful?' he sneered.

Hailey had to bite back a smart retort. 'Truce?' Hailey asked instead. 'Neither of us prying into the other's mind?'

Snape's lip curled. It was a pointless concession and they both knew it. The mental defences of a practitioner of the Mental Arts were more refined than the average witch or wizard. When Hailey performed Legillimency, the subject never knew his mind was being read. She would have to delve deeply into his mind before he realized something was amiss. Not so with herself. Immediately after Snape had come into contact with her mind she had felt the intrusion and Snape, meeting resistance to his probing realised she was adept in the art as well. It would be impossible for them to unknowingly attempt Legillimency on the other.

'You said you saw me studying in my common room. What did it look like?'

She crossed her arms. 'It had a low ceiling. The lamps were green. There were skulls scattered about. Tall bookcases flanked the fireplace. The chairs were green too. Not very cosy if you ask me.'

'I found it quite adequate.' If Snape was surprised she had answered correctly, he did not show it. He regarded her for a moment. 'Remove that charm, Ahlgrim, you look absolutely ridiculous.'

Hailey ignored him. She gestured to the worn wingback chairs flanking the fireplace. 'Why don't we have a seat and discuss this like adults?'

Snape's jaw clenched at the implication he was behaving as anything other than a rational adult, but he nevertheless followed her suggestion. Once seated, Hailey dispersed the charm and carefully laid her rosewood wand on the low table before her and folded her hands neatly in her lap. After a minute of her saying nothing, Snape impatiently set his wand on the table as well. It was an empty symbol of cooperation, but Hailey was willing to take what she could get. 'I must admit I am curious as to what memories of mine you saw. I told you' -_lied_ her mind guiltily corrected- 'it would only be fair for you to extend the same courtesy.'

He sneered. 'What memories do you have that could possibly be of any importance?' he asked cuttingly. 'The most fascinating thing I learned is that you enjoy reading in the bathtub.' She flushed scarlet and self-consciously crossed her arms over her chest, a move that only made his smirk widen. 'No need to be so coy, Ahlgrim, the book held more interest to me.'

The only thing that kept Hailey from launching herself out of her seat and storming back into the kitchen was the knowledge that Snape would probably use the opportunity to Obliviate her when her back was turned. The man was a complete sod. She forced her hands back to her lap. 'I suppose it was better for you to see that than a closed session of the International Confederation of Wizards,' she managed to say evenly.

Snape rolled his eyes. 'Oh come off it Ahlgrim! There are no voters to impress here. You can stop being so goddamn virtuous for once! Merlin it must be exhausting.'

Hailey bristled. Some of his words hit closer to home than he knew, but not in the way he thought they would. Despite what Snape may think, she wasn't pandering, it was just who she was. She never was able to speak for herself it seemed, she was always representing the Wizengamot or the International Confederation of Wizards. She had to watch every word she said, any decision she made had to be planned out three steps ahead and at all times her behaviour had to be unimpeachable. Yes, at times it was exhausting. 'Contrary to what you may believe, Professor, this isn't some personae I've adopted. I'm not pandering for votes, this is who I _am_. This is just me trying my best to work within a system that at times is very broken.'

Snape clapped slow and sarcastically. 'Excellent, Hal. Extremely convincing.'

All colour drained from her face and her eyes stung. But she refused to let herself cry in front of him. She had not heard that nickname in decades. Never wanted to hear it again. Charles had given her that name and Snape had no business being anywhere near it. 'Do not call me that.' Her voice was little more than a whisper.

He idly examined his fingernails, not even glancing her way as she furtively swiped a hot tear from her cheek. 'I shall call you whatever I like, Hal.'

The temptation to strike him was frightfully strong. She was tempted to call him _Sev_ and see how _he'd_ like it. Ask him where his dear friend Lily was. But even now she could not do anything but take the high road. 'You _bastard_.' Or the high_er_ road.

'Severus, that is quite enough.'

Both of them started. How long had Albus been standing there? She hadn't heard the door open.

Snape had gone very still. The Headmaster was radiating disappointment.

'Hailey, Molly has just begun to serving pumpkin pie. It's positively delectable.' Though Albus's tone was light, the gaze he pinned on Snape was anything but.

She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Her makeup was running, one of the most sadistic wizards she knew had seen her naked and Albus wanted her to have pie with a bunch of people who would, thanks to the aforementioned wizard, view her with nothing but suspicion. No. Not today. 'Thank you for you offer Albus,' she rose to her feet and grabbed her wand, 'but I shall see myself out.'


	13. Defence Against The Dark Arts

AN: As always, thanks to my beta and britpicker, Charlio and Clumsy Ninjable. Both of you guys are awesome! Also, thanks for all those who read, review, favorite and or follow my story. Special Thanks go out to AzraelLilith and Muggle Creator. Your enthusiasm helped motivate me to finally get this chapter up!

AN2: For those who are into TV Tropes, the website that chronicles tropes and how they are used in all types of fiction, you will be excited to learn I'm working on a TV Tropes page for The Gossamer Web. However, before I post it to TV Tropes I want to ensure there is adequate interest in both The Gossamer Web and the idea of putting it on TV Tropes, so I will post the page once this story has 100 reviews. Please, let me know what you think of the idea in your reviews!

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Chapter Thirteen: Defence Against the Dark Arts

"_What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue."__-Edmund Burke_

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The potion was a thick, murky burgundy and had the viscosity of stew. Severus stirred the potion, noting with satisfaction that the white saxifrage had dissolved. With one hand on the stirring rod, he grabbed a quill and made notes in his journal with the other. He had been developing the potion for fifteen years, ever since an Auror's curse had hit him during the War. The wizard had been killed before Severus could find out what curse he had used. Poppy Pomfrey had managed to repair the brunt of it, but the damage to his kidneys had remained, leaving him battling jaundice, hypertension and fatigue.

While Severus had been unable to personally consult with a St. Mungo's Healer on account of his Dark Mark, he had, through discrete inquiries, discovered that St. Mungo's would be unable to provide a cure. So Severus had set to work creating one himself. Potions existed that treated some of his existing symptoms; there was an Invigoration Draught and coffee for the fatigue, and Preston's Pressure-reducing Potion to treat the hypertension. But the Invigoration Draught turned him into an insomniac and left him wandering the halls long into the night. While insomnia may be good for catching students breaking curfew, it did not improve his temperament. Not to mention the fact his kidney function would only further decline, and treatment was very much different than a cure.

The cauldron before him contained his most promising attempt yet, as he had learned much from his previous trials. A great difficulty in this particular endeavour was recreating the damage to the test subjects. Minerva had Transfigured pigs for him to use and as she was used to his experimentation, hadn't asked too many questions. But at the end of it, he would have to be the potion's first human test subject. With a wave of his wand, the fire under the cauldron was extinguished. The potion was going to have to cool completely before he added the casewort.

Knowing he'd have a long wait, he grabbed his copy of The Daily Prophet and sat down to finish the crossword, located on the back page with the letters to the agony aunt and ads for used brooms and cauldrons. Above the first column of clues was a political cartoon by Henry Kirke. Severus couldn't help but scowl at the caricature of Ahlgrim, whose slight stature was exaggerated to a ridiculous extent. Of course he couldn't even read the newspaper without being confronted with that witch. Though he could hardly take any pleasure in how the newspaper had been raking her over the coals in regards to her announcing her belief that the Dark Lord had returned.

When he and Ahlgrim had interviewed Potter about the Dark Lord's return, Severus had thought Ahlgrim had simply been naïve in trusting Potter at his word. The knowledge she was a Legillimens had transformed his perception of her. He wondered who had taught the witch that particular skill. Severus had taught himself the foundations of the Mental Arts when he was still a student at Hogwarts, but he hadn't studied them in earnest until he had made the decision to defect from the Dark Lord. Dumbledore had known Ahlgrim was a Legillimens, but he denied teaching her and refused to reveal who had instructed her.

Except for the fact that the Order's coffers were substantially fuller, the Order meeting had been an utter disaster. The question of what to do with the excess funds had been a predicament that the Order never had to deal with before. Despite the revelation of Ahlgrim's Legillimency, the members of the Order seemed rather taken with their new benefactor; Moody was her only detractor. Severus himself was unsure what to think of her, and not just because he was loathed to agree with Moody on anything.

His fury when she had glimpsed into his mind had been apoplectic, it was not until after she had left, and after the Headmaster had lectured Severus on how 'disappointed' he was, and Severus had managed to compose himself that he realised he had been a fool. His immediate concern was that she had glimpsed memories of him during his time as a Death Eater or had gained knowledge that he was Dumbledore's 'inside man.' It was promptly obvious Ahlgrim had learned neither of those things for she hadn't thrown a fit and demanded he be thrown in Azkaban. But then he had flown into a rage and had attempted to _Oblviate _her; actions that pointed to a man holding a terrible secret. While he was satisfied that one of the memories she had glimpsed had been of him in his common room, he did not think the rest were so benign. He had difficulty believing he would be so fortunate. Which left him to wonder, what memories could she have seen that would have made her decide to lie about their contents, but yet still trust him enough to let herself be alone with him? Severus did not like the answers he had come up with. His attempts to use his newfound knowledge of her past to goad her into revealing what she had seen had failed. Contrary to what he told Ahlgrim, he had not seen her naked in the bath. He had felt it was a sufficiently safe bet to guess she had read in the bath at least _once_in her life, and figured it would be the most efficient way to discombobulate and humiliate her.

But at the very least, Severus could be confident that it would not happen again. Ahlgrim could not attempt to use Legillimency on him without being detected and rebuffed and Severus, though an accomplished Legillimens, could not avoid detection either if he attempted to peer into her mind. The heightened defences of a practitioner of the Mental Arts prevented unobtrusive Legillimency and it was for this reason people believed that a Legillimens would always know if the mind he was glimpsing belonged to a Legillimens or Occlumens. However, that was not precisely accurate. If an Occlumen lowered his defences completely and did not resist a Legillimen's probing, it was quite possible for the Occlumen to keep his ability hidden, as long as he offered up memories for the Legillimen to see, which was how Severus had managed to remain a spy. The Dark Lord was an accomplished Legillimens and if He thought that He could not read the mind of one of His servants, He would have that individual killed. One did not keep secrets from the Dark Lord. Or at least, no one but Severus.

He would have felt less angry about the whole affair if he had actually glimpsed anything of note in his foray into the witch's memories, but he had learned nothing useful or scandalous. He frowned, the memories he had glimpsed in Ahlgrim's mind flooding back. He had seen Ahlgrim as a small child, sprawled across a bed in a large room covered with Quidditch posters and filled with every toy a child could want. Her brother was haphazardly throwing robes and books into a trunk while she clutched a toy dragon and insisting her brother write her every single day while he was at Hogwarts. Snape had noted with surprise that he had recognised the boy; Severus and Lily had shared a compartment with him on the way to Hogwarts. What they had talked about he couldn't recall; all he remembered was that the boy had shared his Liquorice Wands with them.

Then he had seen Ahlgrim as an adult, only a different hairstyle separated her from the witch he had seen at the Order meeting. She was lounging in bed, propped up by a plethora of pillows as she scribbled on a thick scroll. Her reading glasses were perched on her nose and a soft bobbing light hovered nearby. Every so often she would halt in her writing and stroke the back of the sleeping man who lay next to her, a wizard with brown, curly hair who was unknown to Severus.

That memory faded and was replaced by a teenage Ahlgrim wandering the streets of what appeared to be Soir Trimestre, Paris's counterpart to Diagon Alley. She bypassed a store displaying cauldrons in its window and entered a pub. The crowd was beyond raucous; a witch was dancing by the hearth and a group of drunken wizards were singing boisterously. Ahlgrim asked a barmaid a question in French, but was ignored, or perhaps she simply couldn't be heard over the clamour.

A witch disengaged herself from a table in the corner and rushed over to her. 'Hailey!' she cried, and then she was babbling in French.

Whatever the witch said seemed lost on Ahlgrim, who furrowed her eyebrows. 'What?'

The witch took a deep breath and said, in heavily accented English, 'The one that is called Voldemuerte... He is dead! He is no more!'

Ahlgrim stilled. Her face shifted through a multitude of expressions, before it settled on a strange, sort of lopsided grin, as if her smile had broken. Then the smile vanished and she pushed passed her friend and elbowed her way through the crowd to a back entrance and into the cool, autumn night.

The Dark Lord had been defeated, but in some ways it made little difference. Severus could see the moment Ahlgrim recognised that fact. The moment she realised the dead were still lost, the destroyed homes were not magically rebuilt, the injured were not made whole. That His defeat had only prevented further destruction, it had done nothing to repair the lives of those who were already destroyed. And so, while a distant country celebrated the downfall of an evil they had barely known, Ahlgrim sat on the back steps of the pub and burst into tears.

Severus had known the instant the Dark Lord had been defeated. The Dark Mark on his arm had seared with a fire unlike anything Severus had ever experienced. The pain was worse than the Cruciatus Curse; he had not thought the pain would drive him into madness, he had _known _it would. At least, those would have been his thoughts had he been capable of comprehending anything but the burning pain. When thin tendrils of smoke began to rise from his arm, Severus surrendered to the pain and the blackness. When Severus had awoken, it was an eternity before he could bring himself to look at his arm, convinced that he would see nothing but blackened ash. Eventually the fear built itself to such a degree that he had to look, had to see. The fear of not knowing had eclipsed the fear of what he would see, so he looked. His left arm was not charred or scarred; only the faint, white outline of the Dark Mark remained. Then the rest of his thoughts returned and he remembered Lily. Severus had stumbled to his feet, left the castle and Apparated to Godric's Hollow. As soon as he arrived in Godric's Hollow, he had known she was dead.

Severus scowled, disgusted at how maudlin his thoughts had turned. Throwing down his newspaper, he glanced about his quarters, seeking something else to occupy his attention. There were no papers to mark, lessons to plan, or detentions to supervise, but there was a project he had been working on, other than the potion in the cauldron. It had been a month since Black had cast the Cruciatus Curse, but Severus had certainly not forgiven nor forgotten what Black had done. Thoughts of retribution had to be placed on hold for a time, but Black was beginning to regain his old swagger and no longer fled the room when Severus arrived. There was a saying that 'Revenge is a dish best served cold,' but Severus disagreed. If a dog misbehaved, one didn't wait a week to mete out appropriate punishment, if so, the dog would have no idea why it was being punished. Optimally, retribution should be swift, but Severus was not so petty that he thought it should take precedent over Order activities. If Severus had any maxim about revenge, it would have come from Cesarino Adessi's infamous treatise, _The Warlock_: 'To take revenge half-heartedly is to court disaster. Revenge and the absolute obliteration of one's foe should be synonymous.' Severus did not agree with Adessi's decision to murder three dozen witches and wizards, but the Italian had great wisdom on interpersonal relationships.

In his spare moments he had considered several avenues for revenge, but had dismissed them out of hand. Anything too subtle would not leave the necessary impression on Black, and a direct approach would only escalate the situation; the last thing Severus wanted was to get Dumbledore or Lupin involved. Severus stilled for a minute, and then smirked. Actually, perhaps getting Lupin involved was _precisely_what he should do. If he played his cards right, both Black and Lupin would be miserable for weeks, if not months, and he could ensure that Black would never dare cross paths with him again. It would not be as satisfying as simply cursing the man, but while hexes faded and curses only left small marks, what Severus planned for Black could possibly tear apart the last thread that kept Black anchored to sanity. And all Severus had to do was tell the truth, Lupin would do the rest of the work. _How novel. _At the next Order meeting he and Lupin would have to have a little chat.

Severus stood and moved to his workbench. While Severus had his own private laboratory located near his classroom, he preferred to work in his converted kitchenette unless the ingredients he was using were especially volatile. The workspace in his quarters was smaller than his laboratory, but Severus found he preferred to have all of his books nearby, to be able to check on the potions in the middle of the night and to have a space free of-

_Knock, knock, knock._

-interruptions. Severus moved to the door and grabbed the Looking Glass hanging next to it. The Looking Glass let him see through to the other glass in the set, which in this case were the small beads of glass that made up the eyes of the dragon on the tapestry that covered his door. Through the Looking Glass he could see Lupin, idly playing with a stray thread at the cuff of his jumper. Severus frowned. As fortuitous as Lupin's timing was, Severus couldn't help but wonder what reason the werewolf could possibly have to see him. In fact, how did he even know where his quarters were? The only ones who knew that information were Albus, Minerva, Poppy, and the Slytherin prefects.

Dismissing that mystery for another time, Severus swung open his door with a scowl. 'What is it, Lupin?' he asked, his voice sharp. 'I am in the middle of some exceedingly delicate brewing.'

'Good evening, Severus,' Lupin said, ignoring his ire. 'Mind if I come in for a moment?'

'You may wish to consult your Lunascope,' he drawled, stepping aside to allow Lupin entrance to his quarters, 'the full moon isn't for another nine days.'

Lupin softly shut the door behind him, and though Severus could tell Lupin was tempted to peer around at the cluttered bookshelf and nose around his quarters, the werewolf determinedly met his eyes. 'That is not the reason I am here. Though I deeply appreciate you brewing the Wolfsbane Potion for me, I know it's a difficult and time-consuming-'

Severus rolled his eyes and waved a hand as he moved back to his work table. 'Get on with it, Lupin.'

Lupin took a deep breath. 'Albus has hired me to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts this year.' Lupin said the words as if Snape would find them deeply shocking. Though really, Snape had expected it. The Headmaster hadn't exactly been deluged with applications. Not to mention that he would not have passed up the opportunity to have an Order member in the post.

He pulled some casewort out of a jar and began to crush them with his pestle. 'I will need the notes for your lectures on the days you will be... _indisposed_, meet me in my office after dinner on the nights you are to take your Wolfsbane Potion and this time, try not to go chasing any students across the school grounds.'

There was a slight flush to Lupin's cheeks, but he managed to remain otherwise composed. 'Again, that is not the reason I am here. Look Severus, I don't want you to think this was an attempt for me to get the better of you. I know you have been hoping to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts for many years-'

Lupin appeared startled, just shy of frightened when Severus burst into laughter. Lupin was in his quarters, contrite and apologetic, acting like he was informing Severus of the death of a beloved aunt. Severus's lips curled upwards, his expression nothing short of gleeful. 'I've been pining for the Defence position for _years_, you say? Oh, do tell.'

The werewolf hesitated, lost at the unexpected direction the conversation had taken. 'But I thought... every student at Hogwarts knows you wanted the job!'

'Exactly,' Severus snapped. 'Every student at this school is privy to knowledge that should, by all accounts, be between myself and the Headmaster. Think, Lupin,' he set down his pestle to regard the werewolf. 'How do you think such a rumour was started in the first place?'

Lupin's forehead furrowed in consternation. 'But why would you start such a tale? Why pretend to be after a job you don't want?'

Severus scoffed. 'Really, Lupin? I thought the answer would be obvious.'

'You're right,' Lupin said slowly, 'it does make sense. You began your tenure during the War, Voldemort would have wanted you to teach Defence, He would have relished the opportunity to have you subtly instruct the children in the Dark Arts right under Dumbledore's nose. He needed to know you had tried to obtain the position. And I suppose, at a certain point the rumour just stuck.'

The plant Severus was crushing had become nothing more than a green paste. 'You neglect half the picture. Dumbledore's 'refusal' to hire me gives me evidence to present to the Dark Lord that he does not trust me fully. Several weeks ago Dumbledore and I staged an argument over the matter.'

Lupin chuckled. 'You should have joined the Hogwarts Drama Club. I suppose you would have to allow Voldemort to view some memories to keep him from discovering that you are an Occlumens,' Lupin said, sobering. 'And if you don't have any memories to show you are being a loyal spy, you would have to manufacture them.'

He arched an eyebrow, surprised at Lupin's astute reasoning. 'At the Order meeting, you were unsurprised to learn of my abilities in the Mental Arts.'

The werewolf shrugged. 'I had known for many years. I knew Voldemort is an accomplished Legillimens, so the only possible way for your duplicity to remain secret was for you to be a stronger Occlumens.'

Severus frowned. Lupin was fearlessly meeting is eyes now, the same, he realised, as the werewolf always had. If Lupin had known Severus's aptitude in the Mental Arts he had done nothing to guard his mind against it. He regarded the werewolf suspiciously. Lupin did seem oddly familiar with the terminology... 'I suppose you found the techniques to clear your mind beneficial to make the transformations less... disagreeable?' he hazard to guess.

Lupin nodded. 'I did. James wanted me to learn Legillimency, he thought we could have some fantastic fun with that, but I did not need to read other's minds to learn what they thought of me,' his expression darkened. 'They usually made it quite clear.'

'And yet Black did not know I'm an Occlumens.' Severus said, remembering Black's gobsmacked expression at the Order meeting. It had almost made Ahlgrim's intrusion into his mind worthwhile.

'That was intentional on my part.' Lupin took a slow breath, knowing he was treading in dangerous territory. 'Severus, I don't blame you for not believing me. Merlin knows my actions in the past were disgraceful. But I do not wish to antagonise Sirius.' He grinned ruefully. 'You would be pleased to know Sirius was quite terrified and thought you could read his mind.'

Severus said nothing and the silence lengthened, growing into something uncomfortable. Lupin cast his eyes about the room, seeking for something to say. It was Severus who broke the silence. 'The Patronus Charm, you were the one who taught it to Potter, correct?'

He nodded. 'Yes, I thought it would help Harry-'

'Perhaps you should teach it to the other students.' Severus braced his arms against his worktable and stared at the kitchen wall. 'I think the time has passed for teaching the students about grindylows and kappas; that is not the knowledge they need now. It will not prepare them for the world they will face.'

Lupin hung his head. 'I know.' He then shuffled his feet and cast a glance to the door, then to the map of England above the mantle. 'How is your godson, Draco, doing?'

Severus scoffed and with a flick of his wand opened the door. 'The fact that you are attempting to make small talk means you have nothing more important to say. I trust you can find your way to the door?' Of all of Lupin's traits that Severus found aggravating, his relentless cheeriness was perhaps the worst.

The werewolf was unperturbed at his abrupt dismissal. 'If you say so, Severus. You have a good evening now. I shall see you at the next Order meeting.'

Severus let Lupin make it just shy of the door before he called out, acting as if he just remembered something. 'Lupin?'

He looked over his shoulder. 'Yes?'

'What do you think of Ahlgrim?'

Lupin stopped and shoved his hands into his pockets. When he looked over his shoulder at Severus, his expression was guarded. 'Good reputation in the Ministry, seems to have a good head on her shoulders, certainly going to be voting for her as Minister, you butted heads with her-'

'Which I do with everyone-'

'Which you do with everyone,' Remus agreed. 'And-'

Severus crossed his arms. 'And she's a Wizengamot Elder. Which means she has the power to call for an inquest into the charges against Black.'

Lupin crossed back into the room to stand in front of the hearth. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, knowing that he was almost certainly walking into a trap, but too damn polite to end it prematurely by simply walking out the door. 'The possibility did occur to me,' he said slowly.

'There will be obstacles,' Severus said, his voice deceptively light. 'A lack of evidence, a lack of witnesses- Pettigrew won't appear before the Wizengamot just because he is summoned- not to mention Black's less than model behavior since his escape from Azkaban.'

Lupin gazed into the fire. He had no argument for the first two points, so he seized upon the third. 'Yes, Sirius did break into a home to use their Floo and he filched a wand from some inebriated wizard, but after being in Azkaban for thirteen years, those are small matters that I believe the Wizengamot will overlook.'

Severus arched an eyebrow. 'Is that what you believe?' He moved to stand in front of Lupin and crossed his arms over his chest. "A small matter?' Is that what you would call Black casting the Cruciatus Curse on me?'

Severus had expected outrage, disbelief and anger following his pronouncement, a lengthy argument before Lupin would accept the truth, what he had _not_ expected was for Lupin's eyes to widen in shock then swiftly transformed into resignation. Lupin was hearing of Black's indiscretion for the first time and yet it did not surprise him. Lupin's hands clenched into fists, which he shoved into the pockets of his threadbare robes, the same way he buried his anger in his on-going attempt to distance himself from the vicious beast he turned into once a month.

'Oh? Did Black not tell you?' He asked with mocked concern, 'I suppose with all the moping and the drinking one forgets such things…' Severus was going to add more, but Lupin was already storming toward the door.

The door slammed hard enough to rattle the glass phials on the mantle and Severus smirked to himself. Some said the best revenge was living well, but Severus disagreed. Revenge first, _then_one could live well. It was unheard of for Lupin to lose his temper, to let his anger get the best of him, but through his blunt machinations that particular beast had been set upon Sirius Black. And afterwards Lupin would doubtlessly drown in guilt for having treated his sole surviving friend in such a way.

Silence descended upon his quarters once more. Remembering the werewolf's enquiries after his godson caused his eyes to stray to the books resting on the chair next to the fireplace. For Draco's birthday he had purchased a copy of _Confronting the Faceless_, _A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions_, and _Magick Most Evile_.

Draco was, in all respects, a selfish brat. Everything he could possibly wish for had been given to him freely. He was a bully, and though he had the potential to make good marks in his classes, he was plagued with laziness. He excelled in Potions and had a natural aptitude for Defence Against the Dark Arts.

Severus had little hope of reforming his godson's character, but had felt a small comfort in the knowledge that the worst sort Draco could grow up to be was a philander with too much time and money and not enough sense. But now that the Dark Lord had returned, Draco's future had become much darker.

He had wished to subtly direct Draco away from his father's path, but Lucius simply had too strong of a hold on the boy and Severus could not betray his true loyalties, even to save his godson's life. He never had the opportunity. Until he had seen Draco hiding in the bushes after he had Apparated to the Manor with Lucius. His attempts to direct the conversation had been heavy-handed, but it was not the time for Slytherin subtly. Draco needed to hear and to see what it was actually like to be Death Eater, to have another source than his father's bowdlerised stories. And Severus had dared to hope that he might have opened Draco's eyes and gave him second thoughts.

However, in return, Severus had been forced to paint himself as an enemy. He had lost his godson's confidence and now had to play the part of the villain. Severus could not offer Draco any counsel. The boy would have to find his way on his own.


End file.
